Swings
by Caramel1941
Summary: Takes place in the SPN verse. Pairings Sabriel and Destiel.  Lost the second part of the fic so I will have to update it and finish it soon. Sorry!


"What the hell is going on?" He urged. His voice was loud and forceful. It enveloped me in an embrace of fury. Fury and fear, I could tell. Most wouldn't pick up on it, but most people aren't me. The little quiver and waver of his voice stood out among the plethora of sounds bombarding me from every which way. The mostly came from above us, on the rackety overpass.

"How can I tell you?" her voice spoke. This voice was unfamiliar; it came from a person that was a complete stranger to me. It sounded hollow, nonchalant, defeated. And scared. And yet it was my voice. I felt my lungs take in the oxygen necessary to speak the words. I felt my lips move without command, my vocal chords constricting and expanding. But my brain never did once think the words.

I sat there, amongst the fallen heads and their corresponding bodies. Blood was everywhere. It was on me. But I did not care. The mess could disappear in an instant with a simple snap of my fingers, but I refused to. My fingers were unable to release themselves from the handle of the finely crafted sword, the gold swirls encircling my hand. The silver blade was drench in blood, already on its way to drying. The dark liquid had crusted in my nails, which looked even worse considering I never paid any attention to them.

I sat there, in a puddle of smeared blood. I was wearing a new dress that my dad had gotten me for my birthday. It was a pale pink, almost white, but blood had splattered, emulating the various paintings of Jackson Pollock. My cheek was slashed from the line of my hair to my jaw. I had marks on my neck from teeth. The skin on my shoulder was torn to shreds.

I sat there, and he paced. My hazel eyes tracked his movements back and forth. He was rigid and stiff. The tension was held in his shoulders tightly and his brown puff of hair was askew, the result of his hand pulling, tugging, and being dragged from the forehead to the nape of his neck continuously. His Green Lantern t-shirt was covered in dirt and blood splatter, but he was not hurt, save for the occasional scratch and bruise. His eyes were dancing all over the place, but never on me. I wanted him to look at me. Not to see me for the monster that I could be falsely perceived as or so that I "could get lost in them", but so that I could know that I am not alone.

That somebody was there, not just this shell. I just needed him to see me. I need him to see that I am nobody, just a girl in a dress and combat boots with a sword in her hand and blood everywhere. A girl who was alive and there and who needed him. Not to love or console or comfort, but physically needed him, him with his theatre geek persona and the flippant attitude, to survive. Literally. It fucking sucked.

I stretched out in the back seat of the Impala, somewhat grateful for the noticeable lack of seatbelts to get in my way. I had a small Maglite in my hand I prepared for what would become a long ass drive through the middle of Buttfuck, United States on a two-lane highway of shitty pavement. I cracked open my well-worn copy of _The Catcher in the Rye._ The binding was falling apart and the corners of the covers were frayed. The top corners of the pages were blended together, in the formation of the movement fingers make when turning a page. Various pen and pencil marks littered every page, making it almost impossible to read, especially at one in the morning, _almost._

My insomnia was kicking in and I was still high off of the surge of adrenaline from the latest hunt in the life of a Winchester. The familiar squeak of the doors cued the entrance of my uncle and my dad in the car. They continued to pester each other as brothers would, and I spaced out, getting lost in the ramblings of Holden Caulfield.

We stopped in a small town, again in the middle of nowhere. It was a few towns out and Dean, my uncle, and Sam, my dad, needed to sleep, apparently. Weaklings. I stepped out of the car and promptly fell to my death, from five feet and eight inches above pavement. Dean snorted at my tumble and I simply flipped him off.

A nondescript motel stood in front of us. With its maddening neon sights that can induce seizures, cheesy name, and unhygienic accommodations, we were once again at home. I sighed and hefted my bag over my shoulder as I walked lazily to the room.

I took no notice of the shitty wallpaper covering the walls as my bag was dropped haphazardly on the floor. My body was flung onto the bed, stomach down, and completely spread-eagle. I heard my dad sigh from the doorway, and all I had the energy to do was smirk into the pillowcase. My mind drifted off in a haze, but I could never really reach a deep sleep. Of course, my dad had the balls to shove me over to the wrong side of the bed steal all of the blankets.

I kicked him in the shin weakly, my eyes still closed. I felt fingers on my forehead flick me lightly.

"Love you, too, Daddy-o."

I listened to him fall asleep. He snored softly that it was adorable and freakishly hilarious, especially when his 6'4" body scrunched up into the fetal position and hugged the pillow.

Sleep weighed down on me, but I put on the dress my dads got me for my birthday. It was strapless and a pale pink, almost white. A peasant skirt and a simple brown belt under the bust. Fashionable yet badass. It was like they saw me in dress form. I put on my black combat boots, because they made me feel awesome.

I was exhausted, and I felt like I could sleep forever, however, it was as if I was so tired that I couldn't sleep. I get like that a lot. I am a mother-fucking insomniac. But sometimes I just can't sleep because of an irrational foreboding feeling. Like something is going wrong somewhere. It happens a lot, and a lot of the time, I'm wrong. Yet I'm never really sure.

That's when I go and sit on the hood of the Impala. It truly is the one place I can call home. I lie back onto the windshield and gaze at the stars. It's breathtaking, just like it always is. I look up and see the stars of long ago. People don't realize that when one looks at stars, it's as if one time travels without really moving at all. By simply looking at the stars, one is looking into the past.

And isn't that just wonderfully fantastic?

I don't know how long I laid there. It was cold, just how I liked it, and I refused to wear my jacket. I had just located Sagittarius when I felt that pang of fracking foreboding once more. And it was powerful.

I moved without thinking; my legs stepping silently and gracefully to the back of the Impala, my hands unlocking the trunk and lifting the false bottom. I quickly perused the array of weapons and selected my sword.

It balanced perfectly in my hand. With no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, I disappeared instantly, the only sound left being a quick fluttering of wings. I appeared under an overpass, and I barely had time to breathe before I was attacked by an unknown enemy. My arm lifted my sword and artistically slaughtered the son of a bitch by driving the sword through his heart.

He looked up at me and smirked. He walked forward, despite the sword being impaled even more in his chest. Fangs appeared from holes in his upper gums as he leaned down to get a taste. _Fucking vampires._ My knee jerked and hit his little jewels with little regard of his pain threshold. I quickly pulled the bloodied sword from his heart and gracefully slid the sword through his neck. His head landed a few feet away with a thunk and my face was covered in blood.

I looked around a saw ten other vamps. And a human. Shit. My feet and sword moved of their own accord, and within a few minutes, eleven heads and their corresponding bodies littered the graffiti-and-blood-covered asphalt. Metal clattered onto the pavement as I ran to the unconscious boy surrounded by broken glass and cigarette butts.

"Hey, broski, you got to wake up for me. Can you do that?" I slapped his face repeatedly to rouse him, but unsuccessfully. "C'mon, I bet you got a family somewhere. You got to wake up for them. Better yet, wake up for me, the girl who saved your ass. Goddamn it! Wake up!"

There was a soft rise and fall of his chest, an irregular heartbeat, and a shallow breath emitting from between his lips. There was dried blood and dirt in his hair and his lip was bleeding. I ran my hands carefully down his sides to make sure nothing was broken, when his body winced at my hands' movements on his ribs. Crap, a broken rib. He probably had a concussion as well.

My main worry was just getting him to wake up. Right, numero uno. I placed my left hand delicately on his forehead and my right hand over his heart. I felt my Grace flow from my fingertips to his flesh, to his rib, and to his soul. It tickled. And I felt a tug.

And then I sat there, in the puddles of blood, amongst the fallen heads and corresponding bodies, with my hands still on his body, and I waited.

His eyes fluttered open a few minutes later, and I was awash with relief. His battered hands pushed himself up half way before I not-so-nicely pushed him back down again.

"Easy there, tiger. You may be healed, but your brain hasn't quite sorted everything out yet. Just lie down, wait it out, and rest." I said soothingly. No need to frighten him even more, despite how horrific I probably look right now.

He nodded absently and he took in his surroundings. He gaped at the dismembered bodies before I forced his gaze back to mine. His eyes were brown and terrified.

"No offense, but you know you look light shit, right?" I snorted at his flippant remark.

"Oh, really? I thought that this was red wine on my new dress. Turns out its blood. Who knew?"

His head lolled from side to side before asking, "So, I guess I have you to thank for saving me. What's your name?"

"Lucy, Lucy Winchester. And yes, I saved your ass – big time."

"Well, Lucy Winchester, I'm Jacob, and it's lovely to make your acquaintance." He held his hand out with a cocky expression on his face. The corners of my mouth pulled into a smile as I gripped his hand.

"Are you this much of a dickwad to all the chicks that slay eleven vampires for you and heal your broken ribs? If yes, well then aren't you a little charmer." I told him condescendingly and pinched his cheeks before he slapped my hand away.

He sat up and looked at me, bewildered. "First off, vampires? Seriously? And second, how the hell am I a dickwad?"

I pushed myself further away from him, still sitting on the pavement with my knees pulled up to my chest. I hugged them tightly.

"You know what, never mind. Just, you should probably go home. Your parents would be getting worried." He sighed and threw his head back against the brick wall, before wincing and rubbing the back of his head.

"Fuck my parents," I looked at him, eyebrow raised. "For now, at least. What the hell is going on?"

"How can I ever begin to tell you?" I heard him stand up and he began pacing. We were silent, and I was tempted to look back up at the stars, but my head felt so heavy I could barely lift it.

"I don't care how you tell me. But I deserve to know the truth." I silently agreed with him, but I still refrained from saying anything.

"Why did you behead them? Couldn't you just, you know, stab them? And why'd you use a sword? If they are vampires, wouldn't you use a wooden stake?"

My head snapped back to him quickly, so fast I most likely threw something out. "How many Dracula movies have you seen? Or are you more of a Buffy fan? That I can understand. Joss Whedon is a god." He looked at me expectantly, and I sighed. I pushed myself off the ground, and everything ached. The adrenaline had worn off and I felt as if I had been hit by a car. I picked my sword up from the pavement before looking back at him.

"I decapitated them because that is the only way to kill a vampire. As for your question about the wooden stakes, I shall refer you to my previous answer." When he replied, his voice was steady and warm, but tense, as if he was restraining himself.

"And everything else?" It was quiet, but I could hear him loud and clear.

"You sure you want to know?"

"I would love to know before I puke my guts out looking at these bodies!"

My eyes looked to the heavens, and remained there as I told him. The watered down version, of course.

"They exist. Everything you've ever been terrified of. Not Voldemort of course, that would be ridiculous, but everything else exists. Vampires, ghosts, poltergeists, demons – they all exist. And they are fucking annoying, popping up everywhere and being arrogant dicks as they kill people just for kicks." I paused and smiled to myself. "Hey, that rhymed! Anyways, the monsters under your bed probably weren't real, but the stories had to come from somewhere."

He contemplated this for several minutes, but I never once looked back at him. "And…and you know all of this, how?"

"I was born into it. It's the only thing I've known. My family, consisting of my dads and my uncles, we hunt everything supernatural. Supernatural and evil. Life with the Winchesters is never boring. It's never really cheery, but you will never have an uneventful day."

I felt him sit down next to my feet. He was warm. "I don't know if I should believe you or not."

I stood a moment longer, still looking upwards, before sitting down next to him. "Doesn't matter if you believe me. It's probably better if you don't. It'll be safer. But the thing is, whether or not you believe me, doesn't change the fact that they exist. They aren't Tinkerbell."

"Ain't that the goddamn truth?" He said blatantly.

A wave of sleep overtook me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. The sun slowly rose before us, and no words were needed. For one night, I had found solace. I was at peace.

My eyelids drifted down, turning the world black. I was asleep.

And a pair of chapped lips brushed my forehead. They whispered a soft _"Thank you."_

The morning greeted me with a shove into cracked pavement. He mumbled a quick apology into my ear. His voice was weak, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

"At least you aren't killing me in my sleep. Or are you?" I murmured, my brain still under a veil of sleep.

"Get off your fucking high horse. I'm not going to kill you. Just going to tell you that you should get up. Probably time that we should both go back to hom- or wherever the hell we came from. I think it's around ten in the morning." I blearily opened my eyes and looked at him. I was lying face down, my knees tucked towards my chest and arm folded under my breasts.

I pushed myself up slowly and looked around. The alley under the overpass was still a mess, littered with the already rotting corpses. It was already beginning to smell.

He – Jacob – was muttering something about getting the place cleaned up, but I was not paying attention to him. It's not like it would be an extremely difficult task. I noticed he was starting to stress out, the events that transpired last night, or early this morning, finally catching up to him.

To shut him up, because mornings were bad enough without pints of brain matter sprinkled through my hair, I snapped my fingers, and everything was gone. A puff of black hair swiveled toward me, silently questioning, "What the hell was that?"

I remained silent. Why should I tell him? It's not like he is ever going to remember this happening.

"C'mon, let's get you home and to the safety of your parents."

"How? I don't even know where we are!" Jacob threw his arms out, referring to the sketchy alley that surrounded us.

"Doesn't matter," I answered distractedly. "Where do you live? Address and city."

When he replied, it was with a defeated tone. "42 Ruby Court, Walla Walla, Washington."

"I hear they have great onions there."

His hands pushed my back forcefully, gripping my torn shoulder tightly. I winced imperceptibly.

"What the hell is wrong with you? We are in the middle of nowhere. I don't even remember how I got here! One minute, I was walking home from my high school after my performance and then I was here, being attacked by a bunch of blood-sucking assholes! So, Lucy Winchester, hunter of everything evil and Supernatural, how the fuck am I getting home?"

I pushed him backwards, with equal force, and told him quietly, "Like this." I tapped my fingers on his forehead, and everything disappeared. The overpass, the graffiti walls, the glass-covered pavement was gone.

We were standing on a sidewalk, with a standard suburban road to our left. The asphalt was a pure and smooth black, as if it had just been redone. The white and yellow lines were bright and crisp. Houses were arranged in perfect rows with short picket fences surrounding the freshly cut, dark green lawn. All of the roofs were tilted at the same angle, and it was only subtle differences that indicated which house belonged to whom. It was sickeningly comforting.

A warm puff of his breath passed over my face as he stood there, astonished. "I can't believe…Did you just…huh?"

"Close your mouth; bugs will fly in. Yes, yes I did. Just like with the bodies that were on their way to becoming a little too ripe for my tastes. So," I said looking around. "I presume that this is where you live."

Jacob didn't reply, just continued to gape like a fucking idiot. It wasn't until he felt my fist in his shoulder that he replied. "Ow! Jesus Christ your violent! First the vampires then other supernatural things and now me." His voice drifted away at the end. "Yeah, I live here."

"Good," I stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. "Well, here you are. It was a…pleasure to meet you. Have a good life."

"Yeah you t-" I didn't let him finish as I put my fingers to his forehead and wiped his memories or the recent events. And then I vanished into one of the trees a few yards away and watched him stand there, confused, and walk into his house, safe.

The ratty motel appeared before me, and I mindlessly entered the room to find my dad and Dean frantically looking around the motel room. Simultaneously, they stopped what they were doing and looked directly at me. I felt large, muscular arms wrap around me and I accepted the hug graciously. Dad pulled away quickly, causing me to sway. He looked me up and down and began to panic when he saw the multitude of blood designs on my clothing.

And here it comes, the interrogation. "Where the hell have you been? I wake up this morning and you are gone! You know how dangerous this life is, and I have to know where you are at all times! A few more minutes and I would have called down your father. What do you have to day for yourself?"

After many midnight excursions, I had learned that the best way to deal with my dad when he was worried was to be succinct as possible and avoid a flippant attitude. The exhaustion was wearing on me, so I also had little patience for my sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going, or that I didn't leave a note. But I didn't plan on going anywhere. Honestly, I wasn't planning on leaving the motel. I was sitting out on the Impala looking at the stars when I got this feeling. I can't describe it, but I felt like somebody was in trouble. I grabbed my sword, left, and ended up under this shitty overpass with a myriad of vampires. A human was there as well. I slaughtered the vampires and saved him. However, I just happened to fall asleep there."

Dean and dad stared at me, flummoxed. I told them the truth. Would they rather I lie to them? Yeah, because that always works out well in the end.

"You, my lovely daughter, whom I adore so much that you make me pull my hair out, are, in the words of one Robert Singer, an idjit."

"I accept that opinion wholly and without argument."

"Good, I'm glad. Now go clean yourself up and stay in my line of sight for the next two weeks. Once you get back we have lots to talk about. Now backing out, whatsoever."

I nodded absently, too tired to really think. I wasn't excited for the next few weeks, or that discussion hanging over my head for the next few hours, but what's a girl to do?

I numbly waked into the bathroom and stripped. My eyes couldn't resist taking a glimpse at the cracked and rusted bathroom mirror. The pale skin of my nude body was littered with bruises and dried blood. The anti-possession tattoo on my chest, just above my right breast, was barely visible on the dark purple bruise. I vaguely remember a powerful punch in that general area. Although, I can't really remember the punch itself; just the ever-present thought of the word 'Ow' for a significant length of time.

I stepped into the questionable shower, accepting it with open arms, until I felt the water. It was fucking cold. I groaned. Dean had probably used all of the hot water, that asshole.

The water stung in all of my open cuts, but I could care less. It felt good; the sharp sting the water brought me. The warm relief flowed through me and I relaxed under the cold spray of the shitty shower head. Everything melted away and disappeared into the shower drain.

I remained in the shower until I could feel my fingers becoming prunes. I didn't really want to leave the water. It gave me a sense of calm, simply because it was always there, never leaving. The basic physics of the water as it bended around my body was simple in its complexity, complex in its simplicity. It was why I always took long showers. It was the one place where things made sense. Plus, it made for great acoustics.

I stepped out and grabbed a towel. Then, I remembered, of course, that I would need clothes. In a family full of testosterone, it wasn't exactly easy to just walk out and get dressed. I didn't want them looking at me, and I am positive that they didn't want to look at me either.

The only sort of clothes I had near me was my dress that was pretty much destroyed. I didn't really want to do this, already drained of energy, but I didn't really have any other options. With a snap of my fingers it was as good as new. I slowly clambered into the dress, too sore to move excessively. I looked back in the mirror.

My bruises were still there, the tattoo still difficult to make out. I looked as if I had been abused. That would make a good impression with the general public. I snapped my fingers once more, making the injuries vanish. They were still there; I could feel them as sharply as one would feel a burn on their hand. However, they were not visible to humans. The only beings who could see them were angels.

I stayed in there, staring at myself. My features were anything but subtle. My cheekbones were high and the irises of my eyes bright. My face was long, my neck long as well with sharp divots. My hair was wavy and a bright, rich red. On top of it all, I stood at six feet tall, the same height as my uncle. We don't know how I got red hair, as everybody in my family is a brunette. I simply have red hair. It makes it difficult to hunt, sometimes. Even among a large crowd, I can be detected. I stand out, even when I want to be invisible.

And despite standing out, people only remember me for my looks. My dads make me attend high school off and on, when we are in a town long enough for me to attend school without being suspicious. It's somewhat disconcerting to be taller than the droves of varsity football players that roam the halls of the various high schools I have attended. Even with my looks, it was only enough to turn heads, but no one would ever walk up to me and strike up a conversation. And rarely would I ever instigate one, for my apathy was stronger than my desire to converse with people whom I don't give a rat's ass. It was lonely, yes, but oddly satisfying. It gave me a lot of time to think, but sometimes I could be my own worst enemy. It was a real bitch when I would think deeply in the middle of precalc.

I lost track of time as I stood there, not looking, not staring, just standing; which easily explained why I nearly jumped out of my skin as a hard knock sounded in the small cubicle of a bathroom.

"Get your pretty ass out of there! We need to eat, don't forget that." Dean hollered in his deep voice, making him sound impatient, which, knowing Dean, he was because food was involved.

I sighed quietly, not sparing another glance toward the mirror. I was sick of looking at myself. My hand reached toward the squeaky doorknob that never failed to piss me off, but the door opened before I could register what was going on and I tumbled into the arms of my father. Not Sam, no, but my other dad, Gabriel.

Even the veil of sleepiness that haunted me could not keep the smile that spread across my face. Without leaving the comfort and security of his arms, I hugged him fiercely. If somebody, anybody, were to walk into the motel room at that moment, it would have been quite a site to see. He or she would see a slender, six foot tall teenager embracing a stocky, five-eight man who reeked of power. I could only imagine what it looks like.

However, in that moment, I could have spent many a millennia looking for a fuck to give, and not a single fuck could be found.

I relished the moment, not wanting to let go, but like all good things, they must, eventually, come to an end. He pulled away and chuckled. I vaguely saw him reach his arm up and delicately brush away the moisture that had appeared on my face. Apparently I had been crying. Not sobbing, but a few tears had managed to escape the confines of my tear ducts. At least I was too tired to apply any sort of makeup, so I still had some modicum of decency.

He chuckled, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. "I hear that you have become an expert at freaking out the brothers Winchester with a simple disappearing act. And to come back covered in blood and holding your sword, I really need to know where you learned to pull off something that…terrifying."

I scoffed but I still could not stop the smile on my face. His sarcasm and teasing, the honesty and understanding that never failed to leave his voice reminded me why he should never be gone for a month at a time. Because no matter what happens, if the whole world has gone to shit, he never fails to make me smile.

"Yeah, well, without you I got to keep things exciting, you know?" I mumbled weakly, holding onto my shreds of energy I had left to keep up our easy rapport. I tried to say something witty once more, but the words would not come. "Don't leave again. Please." I whispered, my voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

I felt his arms around me once more and I struggled to keep it all reigned in. His fingers danced over my forehead momentarily and calm washed over me. I could breathe easier, the clog in my chest gone.

"Don't worry kiddo. Right now, we have much bigger fish to fry, but later we can discuss whatever you want for however long you want." His strong fingers combed through my still wet hair, preparing myself for the lengthy 'family meeting' that was sure to come once we stepped out those doors.

He released me once more, but not before giving me a once over, wincing at the injuries I knew that he could see, and gave me his silent approval. His golden eyes met my hazel ones, and we walked out the door to the Impala, my bags already gone.

Still outside of earshot of Dean and dad, daddy tugged on my elbow before leaning close and murmuring the words I had been waiting to hear: "I'm not leaving. Can't leave you and Sam at all ever again. It hurt too much. Missed you guys every second."

"I love you, daddy."

"I love you, too, kiddo."

We approached the Impala cautiously, rather I approached the Impala cautiously, because I saw the still furious and disappointed expression in my dad's eyes. It was daunting. My dad was the master of the bitchface; it was him from whom I inherited the ways of the bitchface, but he was also the master of keeping things secret, of developing the perfect pokerface. It was disconcerting and badass at the same time.

He remained calm and silently as he moved to sit shotgun. Dean was already in the car, beginning to get antsy as he awaited food. Daddy and I shared a look before we clambered into the back seat of the car, me on the right and him on the left, like always.

We sat in the diner, a plate of grease in front of Dean with food he happily stuffed into his mouth. Dad had a weird healthy thing (he is always having those) and Daddy was snacking on chocolate, like always. Our family had been incomplete for two months and it was like nothing had ever changed. The windowsill on which I rested my elbow proved to be one of the best ways to get me to fall asleep, and just as I was about to drift away into dreamland, Dad would kick me in the shin to keep me awake.

Each time, I would feel my snarky attitude make its way across my face, and each time, Dad would respond with his glare. It was menacing. A string of expletives would sound in my head, and I guess I was swearing loud enough that Daddy could hear it, leaving him chuckling as he chomped away on his Kit Kat bar.

The only thing that was irritating was that Dad and Dean were doing everything in their power to postpone the inevitable to leave me squirming. I just wanted to hear what they had to say, to tell me how mad they were and how I should never do something like that again, but it never came. Instead, Dad and Dean bantered over petty brother things and Dad and Daddy talked over nothing of import, simply happy to be with each other once more.

But they never addressed me, letting me stew and ferment, make me feel the consequences of what I had done. I wish that they would just say what they wanted to say, but I suspected that what they wanted to talk about was proper for a diner, especially when we talk about hunts all the time in the plethora of diners that litter the country.

After the stressful brunch, we were on the road once more until we reached a clearing off the side of the highway. Here it came. We all climbed out, dad and Dean taking their usual places on the hood of the Impala. Daddy procured an EZ chair for himself and a spinny leather desk chair for me. Damn, it was comfortable. Dad admonished him quickly before attaining his most grating expression once more.

"Lucy," he said neutrally. _Fuck_. "I know you think that we are going to talk about this morning, and we will, we most definitely will, but now is not the time. While you were gone this morning, Dean and I finally came to a conclusion on a discussion that he have been having for a few days."

I looked at him warily, not really knowing what to expect. His voice was leveled and he was being extra articulate, as if he was choosing his words carefully. I felt the dread build up in the pit of my stomach. Dean and Dad shared a glance before continuing.

"We are going to rent a house indefinitely. You will attend school and we will find a way to have a steady-ish income."

My eyebrows shot up to my forehead, and I am pretty sure my jaw was located somewhere near my knees. Us, the Winchesters plus angel counterparts, being freaking domesticated. Whether I should be excited or worried for my family's sanity, I don't know.

For a long time, my dad had dreamed of the apple pie life: white picket fence, house in the suburbs, the wife, steady job, 2.5 kids – the works. But as life transpired, he realized the best life for him was being a hunter, completely and wholly. And Dean, well, he was the exact opposite. Dad had told me that growing up, all Dean ever dreamed of being was the best hunter. And again, life transpired, and he grew to desire most in life stability, the freaking apple pie life.

Castiel and Dean bonded, as well as Dad and Daddy, and suddenly I was there, once and for all throwing a wrench in the whole thing. It is a talent of mine. After that, all dreams and hopes of that white picket fence, the 2.5 kids got shot to hell, and we have been nomads ever since, traipsing across the 48 contiguous states.

It's all I've known and I never really wanted anything more. As I envisioned us in a _house,_ my brain probably began smoking from the amount of effort necessary to procure such an image. I realized that I had been frozen like that for a while because they had all started staring at me with a worried expression, Dad's eyebrows furrowed in the middle. Also, my mouth was getting kind of dry from the excess air.

"Um…uh…a…hou…house? Us in a house? From where did this crazy-ass idea originate?"

Daddy snorted loudly as Dad gathered the words to answer. "Well," he paused. "It originated from the facts that 1) there are some really weird things in the town in which we will be staying and 2) we have been in motels and on the highways of America for so long that it would be nice to come back to a place, from no matter where we are that we can call home. Also, it's getting really difficult to lug everything around all the time?"

"But what the hell are you expecting to gain from this?" I exclaimed, my arm gesturing wildly to the space around me.

"Stability." Dean said before Dad could get a word out.

I scoffed and dropped my arm. "Stability." I repeated as I tried to wrap my head around this unfathomable idea.

"Look," Dad said placatingly, letting me know that I have no say in this decision whatsoever. "You will have your own room, a kitchen with food, a school you _will_ attend every weekday, and when it is feasible you will go hunting. And we will all be doing this, while we are still hunting."

"How are we even going to continue hunting? There are supernatural baddies all over country!"

Daddy interjected, sounding amused, with the simple answer of "Business trips." I glared at him quickly and jutted my jaw before turning my head back to Dad.

"Lucy, I know that you don't like this right now, but this is our decision and you are going to have to live with it. Just be glad that we aren't talking about this morning right now. We can wait a few days on that, let things cool down. But we will talk about it."

"I wouldn't expect any less of you, Father Dearest." He sighed quietly, ignoring my blatant sarcasm. That, I got from Dean. Silence took hold of us, and I took the time to accept that this was going to happen. I didn't like it at all, but since when is that important?

Once the silence was unbearable I asked, "Where? In which town will we be…living?"

Dad looked me over as he replied "Walla Walla, Washington."

I froze. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, this is such a great and fantastic idea, moving to the town where the guy I saved and wiped his memory lives, definitely increases the chances of him _not _remembering.

I sighed, and decided not to tell them my predicament. It's not like it will really change anything.

"Have you guys found a place yet?"

"Well, I was looking online a few days ago and found a good place. It's not much, but it fits all of us and looks pretty good. Dean likes it too, we just need you and Gabriel and Cas to see it, then we will most likely get it."

I exhaled loudly and placed my hands on my hips. "Okay. Can't say I'm happy about it, but okay. Now, can we go? If we are going to do this, we might as well just do it."

Daddy chuckled behind be and clapped me on the shoulder, and told me that's the spirit and that I am his girl. I nodded absently and sat back in the car. When I looked back out the window the chairs had vanished.

We drove and drove and drove. Somewhere among the shitty pavement and fading paint, wheat fields and playing cows with Daddy, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was laying on a crappy motel bed in my pajamas. The bed to the side of me was empty and rumpled, indicating that someone had slept there. My gaze drifted toward the clock on the nightstand. It read 1:51 pm, the following day. Hot damn, I had slept over 20 hours.

Castiel's smooth and leveled voice drew my attention to the bathroom door. There he stood, his bright blue eyes looking at me and wearing his always-rumbled suit with loosened tie and tan trenchcoat. "We tried to wake you up, but you would not budge. Sam had worried for a few minutes, but Gabriel reassured by saying that your body was just sleeping off the last few days. There is food for you on the table."

I looked at him, not really knowing what to say. I guess my mind couldn't get past the stubborn **MORNING** that refused to stop blinking behind my eyes.

"Hey." I said, my voice thick with sleep. His lips quirked upward minutely, showing the extent of emotion Castiel was capable of expressing. "Where's err'body?"

"They said that they wanted to wait for you to wake up before they saw the house, but considering it would take a considerable amount of effort to rouse you from sleep, they decided to go ahead and check out the house."

Oh, right. The house that were going to move into wasn't a very bizarre dream my brain decided to play on me.

"So I take it we are in Walla Walla?" I said as I rose to retrieve my breakfast. I felt my stomach ache with hunger. I reached into the paper bag and began to devour what was within arm's reach.

"Yes. And we are going to be staying here, for a long time."

When my mouth was stuffed with food, I forwent manners and continued the conversation grotesquely.

"What do you think about all of this?" Although, when I said it, it sounded nothing like what I wanted to say.

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I think that it will provide stability that is greatly desired right now and will be beneficial in the long run. However, I admit that it will take a while to adjust to the predicament."

"For thousands of years, though, you have never stayed in one place. Are you seriously willing to give that all up to-" I stopped suddenly as I felt a sharp pang from within me. It's power spread through my veins, consuming every micrometer of my body.

I couldn't help but release a loud cry of pain and I folded into myself. Castiel was at my side in an instant, sitting me on the bed and holding me until the pain faded. After what felt like an hour, though it was most likely five minutes at most, I looked up into his concerned eyes as I struggled to catch my breath.

"What the fuck was that?" I said on an exhale.

"I do not know." He said with weird inflections on each word. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Besides whatever the hell that was and my subsequent flipping out, yeah, I'm feeling better."

"Good. Lay there as I inform everyone else to return at once." With a rush of quick wing beats, he was gone. I took the short amount of time I had alone to get my bearings. I wasn't very successful.

A hand on my shoulder forced me to look up at the intruder, and I found myself looking in the concerned hazel eyes of my dad.

His eyes were darting all over me, scouring for any marks or injuries. When he found none, he looked back in my eyes and asked a series of questions that my brain refused to process. I noted Daddy and Dean and Castiel standing closely, sharing similar expressions.

My mouth opened to answer but the words refused to be uttered. Castiel answered for me, explaining everything he had witnessed.

They all looked back towards me for confirmation. Confident that my brain and vocal chords were functioning properly, I answered slowly.

"I was eating, and by the way I am still ravenous, when all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain emanate from within me and spread all over my body. Everything, and I mean _everything_, hurt. It took forever for the pain to subside. I mean, it's gone now, but it was the strangest thing and I really don't want for it to happ-"

Of course, it happened again, the pain increased tenfold. It was like period cramps over my whole body. I didn't register the assortment of hands rushing to keep me up on the bed. All I could think was 'OW! FUCKING OW! OH, HOLY FUCK, OW!'

I'm not exactly the most eloquent when writhing in pain, so I think my swearing, which must have been aloud as well, was forgiven. Before I knew it, spots were appearing in my vision and the world turned black.

A cold and damp cloth was on my forehead and a sweaty, firm hand was clasped tightly around mine. My eyelids fluttered open as I took in the scene before me. Dean and Castiel were standing in the corner conversing in hushed tones. Daddy was at the foot of the bed wringing his hands, and Dad was sitting to my left, his hand around mine, looking at me with concern and relief as he saw me look at him. I saw him sigh quietly and felt his thumb brush my hand in soothing circles.

"How long was I asleep this time?" I croaked. Everybody whipped their heads toward me and relaxed minutely.

Dad chuckled dryly before responding. I shot up instantly but was stopped when eight hands pushed me back down.

"Three hours? My god, I'm starving! I want red velvet cake. Can I have some?" Dean agreed wholeheartedly, but was left ignored.

"Not right now, okay? You just need to rest right now." Dad said coolly.

I made to sit up again but my efforts were once again hindered by the same eight hands. I glared at them. "But that is all that I've been doing for the past 24 hours! I need to eat! And pee, now that I think about it."

I pulled my best puppy dog face and I saw them all melt. Works every goddamn time.

"Fine, but you have to accept our help without question and you will allow us to make a big deal out of it. Deal?"

I sighed but realized that that was the best option I was going to receive. I accepted reluctantly.

For the third time, I began to stand up and those eight hands were there, anticipating me to fall. "People! I appreciate the help, but I only need one person to help me! I am just going to the bathroom."

They backed off, but only a few inches. My dads were there, though. Dad's hands were holding mine around my shoulders, and Daddy had his hands on my waist, slowly guiding me.

After spending hours (ten minutes) to hobble to the bathroom, I did my part-human thing and prepared myself to face the music.

As I stepped back into the room, I let everybody guide me to wherever they wanted because there was no chance in hell that I would be able to do what I wanted right now.

I was gently pushed back onto the bed (sitting, thankfully) and a thin blanket was draped over my shoulders. Dean, being the most awesome person in the world, handed me half of a sandwich. My mouth watered in an unladylike fashion.

At least being a lady didn't matter in my family, considering they were all guys. I inhaled the sandwich, not regretting anything, and promptly ate the second half.

They were all talking about the situation and what we should do, but I was incapable of giving a damn. All that mattered was that gorgeous sandwich. Lord, was it sexy.

My body still ached, from the vampire slayage and the mega-powerful cramping. I didn't think that there was enough Midol in the world to numb that pain.

My smile fell when I realized my sandwich was gone. But a small plate with cheesecake placed in between red velvet cake made it return. I gave Daddy a kiss on the cheek in thanks.

"Luce, I need to know of anything that happened to you in the past few days that could have caused this."

I froze with the fork still in my mouth. I swallowed before answering. "Well, I don't know. With the vampires nothing really happened. I was just wielding my sword in a dress like a badass slicing heads off."

Dean smiled and kissed me on the top of my head in approval. I could see the answer I provided didn't help but I didn't know what else to say until "OH! JACOB! The human that was there! He was injured badly and I couldn't move him without causing him serious harm, so I healed him. Fortunately, he was unconscious at the time, so he didn't realize what I was doing. But when I did it, it was different than normal. Like, I felt this tug within me. I can't explain it, but it was just different from when I heal Dean or Dad. Does that make sense?"

"Not in the slightest." Dean responded instantly.

"Y-yes, however, it is a start. We will work from that. But right now, Lucy, you will get rest and we," gesturing to everyone else, "are going to go and sort everything out, okay?"

I nodded, but I knew I wasn't going to rest. I was going to do what I always did: scour the internet for lols.

They left in a rush of wing beats, and the room was silent once more.

A few days later, nothing had happened. Well, nothing that required an excess of Midol. Dad and Dean had settled on a deal with the house. Today is the day that we actually start moving in. I don't think that I am ready, but I don't I ever will be. It's a Band-Aid, right?

Anyways, I had managed to avoid the discussion about up and leaving to slay a shitton of vampires without notification. Although I am grounded, which really means nothing except that I have to be in the sight of either one of my uncles or dads at all times.

I load my bag up with the last of my stuff, mainly books, and flew to the Impala and threw my bag in the trunk before flying back to the room to see my dads making out.

"Guys, I love that you love each other and everything, but I will need to eat at some point." Daddy responded by flicking me on the head. I maturely replied by sticking my tongue out at him.

We loaded up the car and drove to the house. This was my first time seeing it. It was fairly small in comparison to the rest of the land, which was a few acres in size with a large red barn placed randomly in it. It stood at two stories tall and had a large staircase protruding from the back. The front door was traditional with a screen door in the front. It was large and wooden, painted a bright red.

I walked in, feeling the pairs of eyes on my back, awaiting my approval. To me, it looked like a standard house. There was a staircase leading up to the second level a few feet from the door. On the right there was a living room and on the left there was a room that could be used as an office.

I slowly walked down the hall ahead of me, not bothering to glance at the bare, white walls. It led to another living room, a dining room, and a kitchen connected to the first living room. I vaguely noticed a bathroom and a door that most likely led to the garage.

I next went up the carpeted stairs (there were 28) to find the four bedrooms arranged from left to right. The master was in the corner on the right, a smaller bedroom next to it as you moved left, along with a bedroom the same size. On the far left, after the other bathroom, there was a room hidden in the corner of the house. I walked into it and discovered bookcase after bookcase lining the walls. It reminded me of a large alcove. Towards the back, there was a second level, a step up.

I loved it. It was spacious but cozy. I knew it was mine, so I threw my bags down on the floor, along with a temporary sigil on the door, marking it as mine.

Downstairs, I heard them muttering about what they needed to do in order to settle in. After a good long glance at what would be my first room, I clamored down the stairs not bothering to be quiet and informed them that I had found my room.

"Well, that is good to hear. Now, we just need to get you sorted at the local high school. Hopefully, you can start there tomorrow." Dad informed me. I grimaced but accepted it grudgingly.

I walked with Dad across the parking lot to the school. It was a typical high school, with a colonial look to it on the front. A sign read that it was the Home of the Phoenix. At least they had a cool mascot.

Through the front doors of Lincoln High School we found the main office immediately. My Dad made me mojo up some documents, considering I lacked all of the necessary ones, such as a birth certificate and a social security card and proof of address.

We greeted the principal and the man who would become my counselor. I had to say that he was pretty awesome. He was bald and wore huge glasses, but he looked to be in his late thirties and had tattoos lining his arms and hands.

A while ago, we had all agreed that my age would be sixteen, considering I looked around that age. I decided to be a sophomore, because of the 'sophomore slump' when the administration ignores you. It was perfect. I was probably smart enough to sign up for AP US History, but considering that I would still be hunting, I didn't want to commit myself to a bunch of work for which I held a bucket load of apathy.

The principal directed us to the textbook room where I received heavy book after heavy book. To get back at my Dad, after the lady handed me a book I would hand it off to him without looking so that he was carrying all the books.

We had placed the books in my newly assigned locker when the bell had rung and the halls flooded with students all shorter than me.

That's when I felt a rush of warmth spread through me, emanating from the same place as the ultra-cramps from a few days back. I tugged on Dad's jacket sleeve when it happened and when he looked at me, I dragged him forcefully to the front of the school before flying back to the house.

In an instant we were in the middle of the three-acre yard.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I don't know! But it's coming from…within me. Like that thing that made me pass out for three hours except it was different. I didn't feel like I was going to die, but I felt better, you know?"

He shook his head shortly before calmly placing his hand on my shoulder gently. His hand was warm and it made me feel calm. He breathed and began guiding me towards the house.

"But, I think I have an idea." He told me as we walked through the back door. I looked around and our books had already been organized. The kitchen was makeshift but there were enough things to get by. Surely Daddy and Cas had done some mojo in there because there it is not humanly possible to move into a house that quickly.

"Guys, I have an idea about what is happening with Lucy. I'm not quite sure, but Lucy," he looked at me "I need you to answer some questions with as much detail as possible."

We all moved to sit around the dining room table, though I sat on the counter.

"I think that whatever this is, it involves that – what was his name, Jacob? – kid. You said that when you healed him, you felt this tug inside you. Was that 'tug' in the same place as where this pain is originating?"

I paused and thought back to said 'tug.' My eyes widened slightly. "Yes." I breathed.

"Luce, what can you tell me about Jacob?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "How do you mean?"

"I don't need a physical description, but his age, where he's from, etc."

"Well, I don't know that much about him except that he lives on 42 Ruby Court in this freaking town. It's suburbia, but it's not that far from here. He is around sixteen or seventeen. He's about my height, a little geeky, and he said something about performances, so I think he is involved in the theatre department."

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "He lives in this town and you didn't even think to tell us?"

"Jeepers! I'm sorry, okay, but I didn't think that it would be that big of a deal."

"Look, Luce right now that is not important." Dad said as if to placate us. "I can't know for sure without…experimenting, but I think that you and this Jacob guy may have…" he trailed off.

"May have what?" Dean and I demanded simultaneously.

"I think that you guys may have…bonded."

For the second time that week, my jaw was located somewhere near my knees. I gaped like a dumb fucking fish as my brain failed to understand how on earth that was possible.

"But…but…doesn't that require consent? Doesn't that require me asking in the first place?" I said, my voice increasing in volume through the sentences.

Castiel answered this time. "Yes, it does. However, in this instance we need to take into account that you aren't a full angel. But you also aren't half-human, either. Because the 'angel gene' is stronger, you are approximately eighty percent angel and twenty percent human. If you truly are bonded to this Jacob, then maybe your biology does not require consent for such a bond to form."

I blinked at him blankly.

"Bullshit." Dean and I said at the same time, again. I looked at him with a WTF expression before I turned back to Dad.

"What Cas is saying, it sounds strange, yes, but with you everything has been new. It is a completely different territory for us. You age differently than most, we don't know how long you are going to live, we don't know what can and can't hurt you, we don't know if you have the ability to be possessed by demons. We just don't know, which, to us, means that anything is possible." He reasoned.

I knew he didn't mean it as an insult, but it hurt. Just because of my biology, I made everything difficult. My lips moved to apologize, but Daddy cut me off before I could say anything.

"Don't even think of saying anything stupid like that. It's not your fault, so shut up and don't apologize. Capiche?"

I nodded, not knowing how to respond.

"What 'experiments' did you have in mind?" I asked meekly.

Dad paused for a moment before replying. "Well, you said that instead of the pain you normally feel, at the school you said that it was different. That it was warm. We need to find out which school this Jacob kid goes to. Did you happen to get his last name?"

"No."

"Thankfully we have an address. We can build from there."

Everybody besides Dad had resumed moving in, while he sat at the table typing furiously at his laptop. I guess one of the first things they did was get the Internet set up.

I went back to my room and began decorating. The walls were turned to sky blue while the ceiling was turned to an ivory. The bookcases transformed into the really cool shelving units from Ikea. A large rectangular mirror hung on the wall and a desk with an iMac appeared across the room. The pictures that I had taken and developed from the last school I attended were framed and hung on the walls, along with various posters and a large world map in a chocolate brown frame. I strung white Christmas lights along the rafters that hung down from the ceiling and placed the picture of my family on the antique ivory nightstand next to an iPad.

A bed appeared on the far wall, on the little 'stage' in the room. It was a traditional bed with a wrought-iron frame. A queen size Tempur-Pedic mattress appeared in the frame, already covered in sheets and a bedspread. It was a simple white bedspread with a large black tree spanning the size of the fabric.

On the far right side of the room, a flat screen TV hung on the wall, with speakers placed strategically in the room. In the shelving units underneath were various gaming consoles; DVD, CD, Vinyl, and Cassette collections; games; and a record player.

In the few years that I have been alive, I planned out my dream bedroom. I knew that I would never get it, and in ways I didn't really want it, but I had always wondered what it would be like to live the apple pie life. Now that I kind of get the chance to, I am not wasting this opportunity to do anything half-assed.

On top of the fluffy white carpet, there were stacks upon stacks of books. I could've just mojo'ed them onto the shelves, but I loved organizing books. It was calming and methodical. I took it so far as to even make a spreadsheet. It's how I kept inventory.

Hours passed by as I reached for book after book with the utmost care and respect. The title, author, and genre were recorded on the computer and lined on the shelves. I kind of wished the house had a large room that could be filled with endless shelves that required large sliding ladders. Those were always awesome.

The books proudly lined the shelves and my wardrobe was folded and organized properly. I felt accomplished, and hungry.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen and had some leftover kung pao chicken. I took a seat next to Dad, where he was still working.

"What do you have so far?" I said with my mouth full of food.

"Well, his name is Jacob Raine, born and raised in Walla Walla, lives on 42 Ruby Court, just like you said, and he is a junior at Lincoln High School, home of the phoenix."

"Okay then, but I still don't get why I am getting these sharp pangs intermittently."

Daddy piped up from where he was munching on some Milky Ways in the kitchen. "That's because you've been away from him for a while. When one is separated from their bonded, especially a new bond, it makes you physically weak. It will hurt and it can make you physically sick. The only way to make it stop is to be around said bonded partner."

"So, I am going to assume that this isn't just happening to me, but to him as well, yes?"

"Precisely."

"Good, because if he didn't I would punch him a few years into the future. I don't need this on top of PMS."

Dean and Dad grimaced and blanched at that comment, and I laughed darkly. "You know you are going to have to tell him. Might as well just give him back his memories of that night and explain whatever the hell is going on."

I scowled at Dad. "Don't be sensible. And anyways, we aren't even sure if this actually is a bond. You said yourself that we need to experiment on your hypothesis."

He sighed and rolled his hazel eyes, causing his long hair to fall into his face. "Yes, we aren't sure. However, all of the signs are pointing towards a bond. Remember that Dean and I have been through the exact same thing. We know what it is like. All we need is proof from this Jacob Raine."

I shrugged my shoulders for lack of a better thing to say. The dishes disappeared and I went to the living room to help Castiel set up the TV. Maybe I would just laugh at his fruitless attempts. It is kind of funny.

That night I hadn't slept due to another bout of insomnia. It really was becoming a bitch. To pass the time, I played Super Mario on the NES. I played through the morning until I got hungry again, when I ate some leftover pie from Dean not-so-secret stash.

The clock, which looked like it belonged on a post in a train station, indicated that it was seven in the morning. School started in an hour and a half and I was still in my flannel pajama pants and Pokémon T-shirt. I slipped on my killer bunny slippers before going downstairs to eat breakfast.

I was munching on some Lucky Charms when Castiel came down the stairs and began making some scrambled eggs on the stove for Dean. Of course, they were for Dean because Castiel doesn't eat, and I couldn't help but giggle at the hilarity of seeing my uncle, the Angel of Thursday, being domesticated. It was amusing.

He glanced at me with the confused look in his cerulean eyes, which made me laugh harder. The milk dribbled from my mouth onto my shirt and back into the bowl, once again proving that I am the most ladylike sixteen-year-old in the galaxy.

Daddy laughed at me as he sauntered into the kitchen. I flipped him the bird.

He gasped, placing his hand on his mouth. "Put a bird on it!" I smiled into my cereal.

"That is quality! We should go back to Portland sometime. I want to go back to Powell's and Voodoo Doughnuts."

If my dad had gained the ability to fangirl, he let it show in this very moment. "I WANT COCK AND BALLS!"

"Didn't you already get some last night?" I choked on my cereal. Dad had walked in and was smiling a toothy smile.

"Why yes I did, but I noticed it was missing chocolate." They had walked closer to each other and were looking at one another with weird, lovey dovey eyes.

Hands were stroking waists and were oh so close to making out. "FATHERS! I do not need to know! Stop ruining my breakfasts, please."

In a stage whisper, they turned to me with exaggerated expressions. "NEVER!"

I rolled my eyes and put my dishes away. It was a strange experience. I looked into the dishwasher and stared at it like it was string theory. My arms subtly flailed as they hypothetically tried to insert the bowl among the plastic pegs. My eyebrows had furrowed and I think somewhere in there I had made a _very_ flattering noise.

I looked up to see my dads laughing at me and Castiel placed the dish in a random place. Well, it wasn't really random, but it looked random to me. I just didn't understand the correlation to dish and the location of aforementioned dish in dishwasher.

I shrugged and shuffled away to get dressed.

Most people worry about making a good first impression, especially when one is the new student in a small town where everybody knows everybody. I couldn't give a fuck.

In black combat boots, I stood before the mirror with dark wash skinny jeans tucked into the boots. I had a pale pink tank top that draped over my torso, and a tough military leather jacket on top. My hair was straight and hung around my shoulders.

Yet I felt naked. I reached into my nightstand and grabbed my stiletto knife and tucked it into my boot. There, better.

My backpack flew into my hands with a quick snap and it swung over my right shoulder. I rushed down the stairs and reached for the doorknob.

"You going to school?" I paused mid-motion. "I-I thought that I was going to drive you." I slowly pivoted to look back at Dad and raised my eyebrow. "Well, I mean, I don't need to take you but it is your first day and all."

I sighed and hung my head. The arm that was outstretched toward the doorknob flopped uselessly against my thigh. It's not that I cared about being driven to school. Baby (the Impala) would make such an impression at school that it wouldn't even matter, but I just didn't want to make a statement.

"I was just going to fly there, stretch my wings, you know?"

"Oh." Damn it. He pulled the face and the tone and the…

"Fine, go ahead and get the keys. I'll be in the car." The smile he gave me made me cringe a little. It was way too bright for a Tuesday morning.

I sat shotgun and looked up when the door squeaked. Dad had tucked his Sasquatch body in the car and was turning the keys in the ignition. Baby purred to life and drove down the dirt driveway to the crappy two-lane road.

The care was suddenly filled with music that dated back before 1979. Dad and I both grimaced. With a snap of my fingers, the music changed from Kansas' "Everything is Dust in the Wind" to Billy Idol's "Dancing with Myself."

My wings itched to be let free from the confines of human flesh, but the smile on my Dad's face as we both rocked out was worth the ache.

My watch said eight o'clock when the Impala pulled up to the curb of the car. The engine died down as Dad pulled the gear shift to P. I grabbed my bag and opened the door slightly. Momentarily, I looked back at him and quirked the corner of my lips up in a small smile. "Thanks, Daddy."

"I thought I was Dad."

"You get to be Daddy when Daddy is not around. I only use it as a way to not get confused."

He nodded in understanding before saying, "You're welcome. I love you, Lucy."

"I love you, too. Bye Daddy." And I stepped out of the car. I had walked a few feet when he called out through the window.

"Don't forget to tell him! This is really important, Luce!" My arm rose above my head and my fingers wiggled slightly to acknowledge him.

It wasn't until I heard Baby's roar when I turned back and watched as it faded into the distance. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

I disappeared into the depth of the school. Black combat boots stood out amongst the ballet flats and Nikes, kitten heels and Uggs. I traipsed across the recently waxed white and 'sea-foam green' checkered tiles of the halls towards my locker.

A bare locker stood before me, the bottom lined with the textbooks I forced my Dad to carry yesterday. They stayed there, the shiny bindings taunting me. I resisted the urge to flip them off. My back pocket held a copy of my schedule, folded haphazardly into eighths. My hands gripped the marigold paper as I scanned the information for which books I would need that morning.

_English, History, Chemistry, and Photography. _I leaned down to the foot of the locker when another mega-cramp hit. My knees buckled as I practically fell into the locker. My arm clutched limply at my stomach as I struggled to reign in a cry of pain.

After about five minutes I pushed weakly off of the locker to stand straight. My whole body shuddered, exhausted. I looked around the hall that was crawling with a few students. Nobody had even noticed. I don't know if I should feel relieved or annoyed. I went with the former.

I brushed my hand through my hair and leaned down once more for the goddamn books. I apprehensively fingered the bindings before hefting them upwards into my arms.

The first three periods went by like any typical new-kid morning. I went into the class to find thirty sets of eyes look me over. The teacher would introduce me to the class and force them to say hello in unison. I would sit in an uncomfortable desk filled with crappy drawings and swear words so-eloquently written in constructive and effective insults. You know, the usual.

Some of my favorite subjects (English and History) were turned to shit by the teachers who taught nothing of importance. Especially my US History teacher, who was so conservative that he glorified everything the patriots had done. Also, his facts were wrong. Daddy was there to live through that and had told me about his adventures. Of course, I wouldn't point him out on his mistakes. That would just 1) draw attention to me, which breaks the unspoken rule among new students, and 2) make me look like a fool because it would be an act of idiocy to back up my accusations by saying that my father was there to experience the American Revolution two-hundred and thirty-eight years ago.

Finally, the bell that marked the end of third period rang at 11:10. I walked into the Photography room and I felt at home. It was full of annoying teenagers with whom I had no interest in making acquaintances. The photographs on the wall were unfamiliar and the handwriting in a myriad of colors on the whiteboards felt odd.

But we all spoke a language we understood. I did not need to go through any hoops besides introductions and that knowledge made me feel loads better. A smile crept onto my face, a smile which I did not try to hide.

The art teacher was reminiscent of the plethora of art teachers I have had. Was spacy and disorganized, but was intellectual and extremely nice. Ms. Parker, her name, was glad that I had prior experience in photography and that I knew how to do various tasks, such as developing prints and film, using an enlarger, the parts of the camera, and aperture/shutter speed. She pointed me to a chair near her desk as the rest of the class filed in.

I didn't need to look up to know that I had one Jacob Raine. I felt the warmth spread through me once more, removing every last trace of 'ow' from the morning. I gathered that he felt it too because of the reaction he made. He walked past the table, not looking towards me, and walked to a table on the other side of the room. He was pulling film out of his camera as the chair on his left was pulled out by a pretty-ish girl. He smiled and began laughing.

_Shit._ I really didn't want to tell him everything. He was happy not knowing. He had friends, and probably a girlfriend. I would go and ruin that – fantastic.

Ms. Parker stood up and did the announcements, which meant another introduction. I stood up and did a half-hearted wave. I couldn't resist sparing a glance at Jacob. There wasn't a hint of recognition in his eyes. The students went to go and do their tasks, Jacob to the dark room across the hall. Ms. Parker directed me to the dark room as well. At the little foyer there was a door on the left which had drying racks and an overnight film dryer. On the right, there was another door that led to a pitch black hall.

Along the black walls were the adhesive glow stars which did nothing to light the heels of my boots were louder than normal as to alert any people going out that there were people in the hall. The hall twisted sharply to the right as we walked once more through a small corridor into the orange glow of the dark room.

In the middle there were two tables with four trays on each side, where prints are developed. Along the edges of the room were enlargers, an area to develop film, a film closet, and a paper cutter. The vinegar-smelling chemicals brought me even further into my element. I was assigned an enlarger, one I had to myself during the period.

Before I knew it, the period was over and lunch had commenced. I had my stuff arranged together and I noticed Jacob leaving the classroom alone. _No time like the present_, I thought.

Walking quickly to catch up, I caught his elbow in a strong grip and dragged him the opposite way to the end of the hall and down the stairs. All the while he was yelling at me wondering what I was doing, but I ignored him. I guided him down the stairs in a rush to the landing when we appeared on the football field, away from any prying ears. I released him and he turned to swear at me some more.

My fingers tapped his forehead once, letting him remember the incident a few nights ago. He collapsed. I sighed and threw my hands up in exasperation. I arranged him so he would be in a sitting position on the cold metal bleacher.

It had begun to drizzle when he rose from his unconscious haze. "Whoa," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell happened?"

"You passed out." His body quickly contorted towards me in surprise.

"You – you…Lu-"

"Lucy Winchester, that's me. Nice to see you again."

"Are – are you stalking me? What are you doing here? Why did I pass out?"

I cursed under my breath. It was going to be a day of 20 questions. "In order: No, I go to school here, and I gave you back your memories from the vampire attack and it was a brain overload, so to speak."

"You wiped my memories? Why?" His voice echoed across the field, but nobody was around to hear it.

I looked at him, my eyes pleading. "That's easy – for your benefit. You would live in a world where you were ignorant to all of its monsters and baddies. You'd be happy."

He relaxed infinitesimally. "If you wanted me to be ignorant to the supernatural world, why the hell would you give them back?" His voice cracked on the end, causing me to stare at the hardened gum on the cement.

"Because it was necessary." Jacob simply looked at me, begging for context. "You have been having these pangs within you. They hurt like a bitch and are powerful enough to knock you out. But occasionally, there is this warmth, this calm that spreads through you, taking away all of the pain."

The chocolate eyes of his stared at me, the astonishment they held as clear as day.

"But how –"

"I know that you have been having those because I have felt them too. When you walked into Photography about an hour ago, that warm feeling was there. I could tell because I saw your reaction to it. And this morning around 8:15 there was one of the painful ones. I almost collapsed again because of its severity."

After that, I guess he couldn't look at me anymore, for he was looking out across the space of the field, clumps of grass missing. He was wringing his hands, and it took all of my strength not to still them. Just because he was nervous, doesn't mean that he needs to make me more nervous than I already am.

"That still doesn't explain how you knew _I _was having them." His voice was quiet and leveled now.

I breathed heavily before responding. "I knew that you were experiencing these just like I was because of a theory my Dad had."

A flash of brown whipped toward me, his face bearing a confused expression. "A theory?"

"When I had told them about the vampire slaying thing, I told them about this tug I felt when I was healing you. And it was weird because that never happens when I heal Dad or Dean. For a while we didn't know what it was until Dad and I were here getting everything sorted. The bell rang and instead of pain, I felt peace and warmth flow through me. Somehow, my Dad found a connection between the two, which led straight to you."

He was standing now, facing away from me and on a step lower. "Huh. Anymore info on this theory or do I need to work it out for myself?"

Without thinking, I replied , "I'm kind of hoping for the latter." Subsequently, I was faced with his version of the bitchface. "Fine, I will elaborate."

Ten minutes later, filled with much yelling and cursing, we were seated side by side on the top bleacher, our bags strewn out on the seat two levels below us. We gazed at nothing and everything beyond us; the football field, the visitor stands, the practice fields, the clouds, the swimming pool, and nothing at all. Silence engulfed us as we processed what had transpired.

I glanced at my watch and noticed that the bell was close to ringing. I reached into his pants pocket without permission, grabbed his phone and gave him my contact information.

"Look, just talk to me, okay? You can't shut me out – it would physically injure the both of us, so don't even think of trying. At some point, my family is going to need to meet you, 'kay?"

He nodded in compliance before walking off his head lost in thought. I was left standing there, my bag at my foot, and I watched him leave.

I shook my head and flew to the entrance of the school, dreading my next three classes.

I got out a few hours later, at 3:15, and promptly appeared on the porch of the house. My brain still refuses to call it home; home was the Impala, from where I have been living the past four years, not a static structure in the middle of fucking nowhere. I walked in to find books strewn across the living room and the dining room, Dad at his laptop reading something and Dean reading a book with a bottle of whiskey near his hand.

"There a hunt going on?"

Dean looked up momentarily as he replied, "Yeah, looks to be a ghost a few miles out. Simple salt and burn."

I snorted. "Since when is it ever a simple salt and burn? Also, if it is just a ghost, what's with all of the light reading?"

"Oh, you know…studying." I gave him a look that read 'Don't bullshit with me' but I let it slide. I sat down at the table next to Dad as I munched on an apple loudly.

"So," I started with my mouth full. "I found Jacob. He's in my photography class fourth period. I dragged him to the field when he still didn't know who I was during lunch and gave him back his memories. I also explained all the other stuff."

Dad had stopped reading whatever it was and was watching me intently. "And?" he gestured to the open air in front of him.

"Aaaand, he had a really hard time digesting it. But I gave him my number and our address. We should be expecting him around here soon."

"Soon?" Dean asked. "How soon is soon?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly buddy-buddy with him."

"Really, because the whole 'soul-bond' thing really contradicts that. Hey!" The apple landed on the floor near his boot. "That is not cool!"

"So, after everything, you really think it could be a soul bond?" Dad prompted.

I hesitated. "Yeah, it seems 85% likely."

Dad exhaled loudly, wrapping his head around the information. "Wow, I mean, my daughter is four years old, but looks like she is sixteen, and now you are bonded. I feel old."

I heard Daddy laughing loudly. "Seriously, Sammich, you feel old? Imagine how I feel, having been around since before the creation of man. And now my baby's all grown up." He teased, adding a quiver to his voice. His arms began to embrace me when I disappeared into my room. I heard him call from downstairs how I am a 'fun-sucker.'

I thought it best to ignore him. My bag was by my door. I looked at it with disdain and its contents, but I had nothing else to do. Once the work was laid out on the desk, I placed Queen: Greatest Hits on the record player. The needle made the familiar and comforting scratching noise as the vinyl disk began to spin. Soon, "We Will Rock You" was blaring through the speakers.

I didn't come downstairs for hours, and they all left me alone to my own devices. Through the head-banging beats of "London Calling" by The Clash, I heard a knock on the front door. I was around six o'clock, so it could still be anybody. But, with our life, it is never just anybody.

Try as I might, I could not ignore it and my curiosity piqued. I slowly walked down the stairs, my feet bare, and saw Dean, Dad, Cas, and Daddy sitting around the table, all looking at Jacob, who sat in the middle.

"Jeepers, people! Stop it with the third degree! Let him breathe." Simultaneously, four heads whipped toward me and Jacob looked up at me, though his head still hung. I sat in the nearest chair, across from Jacob with the humans on my left, angels on my right.

"Hey." Jacob greeted timidly. I waved in reply.

"Have you met everybody?" He shook his head. "Well, this is Dean, my uncle; Sam, my dad; Castiel or Cas, my uncle; and Gabriel, my dad." I introduced, pointing at them as I said their names. "Why did you come here?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "I guess the only way I can understand whatever the hell this is, I have to go to the source, right?"

An awkward silence fell over the table. Daddy had the decency to end it. "So, kiddo, you've got questions let's hear them."

Jacob gaped for a moment, then proceeded to place his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Is the bond-thing permanent?"

"Yes."

"How did are we bonded if I didn't provide my consent?"

"Not sure, though we suspect that it has something to do with the fact that at least twenty percent of Lucy is human, therefore altering the way some things are done."

"Why me?"

"Her soul recognized yours despite not knowing you. Why it bonded to yours, I have no idea."

"Must we be tied at the hip all the time, or can we be separated?"

"You can be separated, but the newer the bond is, the shorter amount of time you have to be away from each other before your health starts to deteriorate. Any other questions?"

"Are you really Gabriel, as in the archangel?" All of us around the table smiled, watching the verbal match intently.

"Yes I am. This here is my brother, Castiel, the Angel of Thursday." He clapped Cas' back.

Jacob leaned back in his chair, digesting everything. "So, if I have to be with Lucy for the rest of my life, does that mean that I have to become a hunter?"

We all paused and looked at one another. Nobody spoke.

"I hope not. Jacob, you don't want this life. I know that you have dreams and that you want to be on the stage for ever and ever. Even if you are tied to me, I will try to keep you as far from hunting as possible." I told him sincerely.

"And if I do want to be a hunter?"

"Then you are a fucking idiot. You don't even know what you are saying. You haven't the faintest as to what this life entails."

"It's my decision." His voice was raising quickly.

"Yes, it is, but you lack the proper data to make such a decision. Therefore, you decision is null, leaving it up to me to decide because I know what it's like. I live it every goddamn day. Dad and Dean have lived it their whole lives."

We were standing now, glaring at each other. It was silent and nobody moved until Dean and Daddy yanked me back into my chair, Dad and Cas doing the same for Jacob. I folded my arms on my chest, just underneath my breasts.

"Hey, we aren't going to get anywhere with you two squabbling. And anyways, we have bigger fish to fry." Dean said gruffly. I turned my head away from him and jutted my jaw. "Jacob, as Gabriel said, this bond thing is permanent. You are going to be around here a whole lot more and you are going to have to stick with Lucy for a while."

I saw Jacob grimace and I couldn't help but look at him with contempt.

"I know that she seems vicious and annoying right now," Dean continued. "But trust me, she gets better as you get to know her. OW! What is it with you and hitting me!" I had kicked him under the table.

"Her actions are justified." Daddy said casually. "Look, you crazy kids just need to go out and find a common ground. You guys barely know each other. You might as well rectify that. In the meantime, Sam and Cas are going to do some research, Dean is going to drink and clean guns, and dear old Cas will stand there awkwardly, like always."

I walked away, not even looking back and jogged back into the haven of my room. From the step, I leaped and landed face forward onto the bed, completely spread-eagle, and groaned loudly into the pillow.

I looked back towards the door when I heard it creak open. It was Jacob. To the covers, my head delved.

My desk chair squeaked as he sat down, and remained silent for a few moments before he broke it with, "Maybe your dad, the archangel, is right. We are bonded, so we might as well get to know each other."

"You really sure you want to know me?"

He scoffed. "Well, at least we have something in common." My eyebrow quirked upwards, though he could not see it.

"And what's that?"

"Self-deprecation; one of our many flaws." I found myself chuckling quietly, and decided to save the hunter discussion for a later date. When I rolled over, he was spinning around like a little twelve-year-old.

"You and Daddy should get along just fine if you continue you act like the mature adult you are." Sarcasm, the language of the fallen angels, was flourishing.

"Aren't I just? Anywho, favorite play or musical?"

"Rent. You?"

"Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Do you sleep with the closet doors open or closed?"

"Never had a closet. Do you count you steps when you walk?"

"Occasionally. Where were you born?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota four years ago." If he had water in his mouth at that time, a spit take would have occurred.

"Four years ago? You're four years old?"

"Yup," I said nonchalantly. "My biology is different. We are guessing that because of that, I age differently." He nodded, but still freaked out.

This continued for hours, until he asked about the time, and the clock said ten. "Wow," he exclaimed. "I didn't even eat dinner."

"You hungry? I can mojo up some food for you?"

"No, I should be getting home. My mom doesn't like me staying out to late, plus, I have an essay to write."

I snorted. "I know exactly what that's like."

"You know what what is like?"

"Parents not like you to stay out late, needing to know where you are at all times; it gets annoying."

He was laughing. "Really? I thought being an angel would grant you some privileges to which us lowly humans are not privy." Jacob said jokingly.

"Actually, despite the ability to fly off to wherever I want whenever I want, being a hunter means my parents are overprotective, more than the helicopter parents."

"That sucks. Speaking of which, what should I tell my parents?" He asked tentatively.

I sucked in a breath, puffing out my cheeks. In my head, I pictured those color test patterns that appear on TV screens. I did not know what to tell him.

"Just…don't tell them anything. That seems to me to be the wisest thing to do in this situation. Enlightening that parental unit to the supernatural world does not seem to be the smartest course of action."

"I think that in this moment I would agree with you." Silence fell and I watched him shuffle around on the spot awkwardly before I offered to fly him home. He readily agreed.

After I dropped him off, I felt like walking home, though my wings desired to feel the air underneath them. I took my time on the walk, letting my boots ring loudly on the pavement. The wind passed over my shoulders but I barely acknowledged the cold. It felt good as it lightly pushed my hair back.

I paused in an abandoned playground, sitting on a swing and lazily moving back and forth and letting my feet drag across the bark chips. Out in the rural areas of the country, a lot more stars were visible, and cloud cover was minimal. Having spent many a night on the hood of the Impala as Dean and Dad shared a beer, I knew the night sky off the back of my hand. Wherever I was, I could point of the constellations; give the names of stars, and provide some useless trivia.

The metal chain had warmed underneath my hands. The time came in which I was unable to reclaim a childhood I never had. My strong and lithe legs powerfully kicked off the ground and I was lofted into the air.

On the upswing, my legs straightened in front of me, pulled close together and pointed like a ballerina. Gravity pushed down on the swing and my legs folded down towards the swing, remaining pointed. As I reached higher and higher, I would lean back and let my body form a 'V' and my toes would reach for the stars.

My thigh muscles were screaming at me a few minutes later. I gradually pulled to slow and was shocked to feel tears on my face.

However, it didn't take much for me to realize why. This is what we had done in one of the happiest times of my life. We swung as high as possible, attempting to defy the laws of physics and fly around the crossbar of the swingset.

We laughed and laughed, talked about everything and anything. Side by side we sat, and then she was gone. If I thought hard enough, I could still smell her scent – a mixture of Sweet Pea perfume and something distinctly her.

I was rudely awakened from my memories by the harsh vibration of my cell phone, alerting me to the text Dad had sent, wondering where I had gone. I replied quickly and took a sharp breath, drying my eyes in the process.

My room appeared before me. It took a ridiculous amount of strength to not collapse on the floor and weep. Instead, I stoically shed my clothes and threw on a large T-shirt and climbed in bed. The record player began serenading me to sleep with the melodic voice of Bon Iver, dreams and memories of her carrying me to sleep.

We had been in the Pacific Northwest for a month, the longest time I have ever spent in one place at a time. Dad, Dean and Cas were in Sioux Falls, South Dakota working with Uncle bobby on another hunt, so it was just me and Daddy for the time being. Jacob was spending an increasing amount of time with us over the past few weeks, to the point where it felt weird not having him over every day of the week.

Daddy and I had let the place get messy and I was tripping over every little object on the floor. I was at the point where I was done growing, but my brain had yet to catch up with my body.

Nothing strange had happened, and my room was ever increasing with pictures, as I pretty much lived in the dark room. Let's just say Ms. Parker gave me tons of extra credit.

I sat in my German 5-6 class, ignoring what Mr. Maack was saying about verb conjugations, when I saw a glimpse of something that I shouldn't have seen. And then he was behind Mr. Maack leaning casually against the blackboard as if it was no big deal.

To not draw attention to myself, I discretely glanced around the room to see if anybody else noticed him. They all sat there listening to the teacher or doodling or looking out the window. I turned back and slumped my shoulders. _Great, just a conversation in my head with my namesake who only I am able to see; this will be interesting. _

Lucifer stood, dancing his fingers across the area wear the metal and brick wall intersected. His vessel was not how Daddy had described it, parts of skin melted off and looking worse for wear. It looked pristine, even though it was in the most vicious part of Hell, the Cage.

I couldn't decide which was worse: the fact that he was there and only I could see him, or the fact that he only seemed to be gazing at me with a stomach-churning fascination.

I had remained in my chair, frozen, and my heart beating out a samba in my chest, my eyes unwavering from him. Warning bells were going off in my brain, looking for a way to get out and deal with him in the best way possible without alerting everyone in the school that I am the daughter of God's Messenger.

I had diddlysquat. My phone had died, so I couldn't text my Dad, and, contrary to popular belief, angels could not communicate with one another without speaking. The bell rung, and the population of the school went their separate ways.

In the past weeks, Jacob had picked up a habit of forcing me to walk him home after school, but whatever was going on with Lucifer, he could not be involved whatsoever. It didn't matter if he was my bonded, I would do whatever it took to keep him as far away from hunting as possible.

As I stepped out the side doors to the school, my first thought was to go home and have Daddy deal with it, but I changed my mind when I remembered hearing the stories of the transgressions that occurred in their long history together. It was on my shoulders, getting Satan away from my family and head as soon as possible.

Bright oranges and yellows appeared before in abundance with a labyrinth of trees and lethal roots on which I could trip. I looked around at the sight, scanning every nook and cranny for Lucifer. I heard him before I saw him. My head followed the voice, up and up an easily-climbable tree, to one of the thicker limbs on which he was perched.

He chuckled lightly, the malevolence radiating off of the sound in waves. "Lucy Winchester: that's a lovely name. I wonder where you got it from." He said sardonically. "Might I say, it is lovely to meet you."

The muscles in my face remained relaxed , letting no emotion show through, "I would say 'go to Hell' but I guess you already are there. What are you doing in my head?"

He was circling now but never showing me his back. His eyes held a predatory look, never leaving my accusatory ones. I copied his motions. The forest seemed to have grown quiet, as if every creature had hidden in its nooks and crannies, watching the showdown through the spaces in between their fingers.

"What, am I not allowed to meet my wonderful niece, who just happens to be named after me?"

"Shouldn't that be your niece's decision?" I quickly replied.

"Maybe it should but…I wanted it to be a _surprise!_" he exclaimed with zeal.

"I'm not the person for surprises. What do you want?" I ground out.

"I want to have fun. I want to make you pull your hair out, force your father to watch you fall apart to avenge him throwing me back into the Cage. I want to watch you suffer. "

I considered his words carefully and put up a frightened façade. "Do you love them? Your bothers, I mean?"

He froze, shocked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Raphael, Michael, Gabriel…do you love them?" There was silence. We continued staring at each other, his eyes wide and hesitant. I saw his left hand twitching, a sign that the tension was building up inside of him.

"Little girl, you filthy hybrid, you have no idea what you are talking about."

"You're right," I said lightly. "I don't understand what it is like to have love for a sibling. That doesn't mean I don't have a family whom I love dearly. So, yes or no, do you love your brothers."

I never got an answer for he disappeared. I let go a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My body shuddered as I recovered from the confrontation.

That's when I smelled it; I smelled her - the Sweet Pea perfume and her. Red strands of hair haphazardly decorated my face as my head snapped up. There I saw her, standing on a fallen tree trunk a few yards away. She was serene and graceful, the tan skin on her face as immaculate as ever.

My breath hitched as her violet eyes bore into mine. Her expression gave away no emotion; she simply seemed as if she was contemplating.

The palms of my hand had grown sweaty, struggling to keep a firm hold on the butterfly knife I had throughout the entire discussion with Lucifer.

My chest and heart ached. I tried to look away, but the sun glinting off of her eyes drew me back in. I didn't notice the torch in her hand until it was too late.

She cast it through the air, where it landed at my feet. Her arm still raised, the flames increased and danced around the clearing in a large circle, setting everything in its path ablaze.

My first instinct was to run, but my legs refused to move. Then I saw it: a single drop of blood from the tip of her fingers on to the forest floor. Within a few seconds, there were large tracks of blood pouring down the frame of her body, increasing in intensity as time passed.

I choked on a scream and began spluttering as the smoke attacked my lungs. A menacing smirk crossed her tranquil appearance and she lunged at a superhuman speed.

My reflexes kicked in and I ran. I ran as far as possible away from the smoldering clearing, not looking to where I was going or turning back to see my nightmare.

Night was fast approaching as we progressed into the winter season. I didn't know where I was or how far I was away from safety – from home. It didn't matter, though. My legs pushed on through the pain.

I was on a two-lane highway, the uneven pavement providing a dangerous platform for cross-country running. My feet ached in the boots I had donned that morning, the ends of the shoes colliding into my toes with every step, but that didn't stop me.

Throughout the running, I had tears running down my face, subsequently making it difficult to see where I was heading. My breathing was labored, my body wanted to collapse. I kept going till dusk when I approached the familiar road that led home.

I pushed even harder then, needing the comfort and warmth that was offered at all times. Baby sat in the driveway, and my heart leapt. The boots loudly announced my presence on the porch steps as I slowed down, finally, to cross the threshold.

My brain barely registered Dad rush to go and greet me as I fell to the ground, my knees buckling in exhaustion. At some point, my knapsack was torn off my shoulders and tossed onto the floor. Dad had knelt in front of me and was intending on lifting me up. Hands hindered his movements, instead clutching at his shirt and pulling him closer. I ensconced him in a tight embrace and buried my face in the cinnamon-scented crook of his neck.

I breathed lightly once before letting go. My tears and emotions poured out onto his skin and the plaid button-down he had on. In his strong arms I lay, my legs tucked up into the fetal position on his lap.

By body wracked violently in his arms as I sobbed. For what seemed like hours, he held me there in silence; Daddy, Dean, and Cas standing nearby watching with concern.

Scattered sunlight streamed through the aged 3x3 window on my right side from where I lay in bed. The fluffy white covers were pulled taut underneath my chin. My joints and muscles were sore, reminding me of the events last night. From underneath my eyelids I saw her face, beautiful and clean transform into something vile and grotesque.

Tears had built up once more behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Memories came flooding back: the two-lane highway, smoke in my lungs, toes pushing into the leather boots, cinnamon, malevolence, and the hardwood digging into knees all flitted in my eyes.

It was the soft friction of the door against carpet which caused my eyes to flicker open. Dad stood in the entrance, his 6'4" frame barely fitting underneath the structure.

He evaluated my wellbeing with a quick flash of his eyes. I saw the concern creep into his eyes when he registered the picture before him. Carefully, cautiously, he stepped forward, and sat on the edge of the bed. His strong fingers were delicate as the pushed the hair out of my eyes, though he stroked my forehead for a few seconds longer.

"Hey," he said softly. I tried to respond but the words would not come out. "How're you feeling?"

My shoulders scrunched up towards my neck and back downwards in a half-hearted shrug.

"Are you hungry at all? Do you want some toast or juice." I shook my head slightly but changed my mind.

"Can I have toast?" My throat was raw as I spoke, making me sound like a teenage boy going through puberty.

He smiled softly and grabbed my hand gently. Still in a sleep-induced haze, my fingers took his hand and pushed them flat, palm facing me. I touched his fingers with an odd fascination and my eyebrows scrunched in fascination.

Dad grabbed my arms and pulled me into a sitting position. With the covers pulled back, he maneuvered me so I was standing, but leaning heavily against him. My legs seemed as if they were made of jelly as he moved to let me walk.

The floor greeted my face with a warm 'hello'. Once more, I was being lifted up, but instead I was being carried bridal-style in Dad's arms.

The cinnamon scent was mixed with Gain laundry detergent and it drew my head back to the crook of his neck, my arms draped around him. In the short amount of time it takes to get from my room to the kitchen, the rocking motion of his walking was enough to lull me back to sleep in a light sleep. A chair was placed under me as Dad untangled me from his body.

His warmth was gone and I felt empty. Suddenly I felt a soft blanket being draped over my shoulders, so I looked up from the veil of hair in front of my vision to see Cas offering me a sympathetic smile. I tried to return it, though it probably resembled something like a grimace.

The toaster popped and I jumped slightly from its sudden noise. Dad placed the plate in front of me, adorned with two golden brown slices of white bread with butter slathered on thoroughly. A mug of cocoa sat adjacent to the plate, and I couldn't help but smile imperceptibly.

I could feel the questioning eyes on me as I nibbled on the toast, but I refused to meet their gaze. In the golden lines of the toast, I saw the forest floor being set alight and the blood rushing down her body.

She was calling my name, each time increasing in volume. "Lucy. Lucy! LUCY!" I looked up sharply into Daddy's golden eyes. His hand was on my shoulder shaking me out of wherever I was. As soon as I made I contact, his hand was stroking my cheek and combing through my hair, bringing me back to the world.

"I need to breath for me. Can you do that, kiddo?" I nodded slowly and acquiesced to his request. "That's my girl." He remarked at my actions.

When he spoke next, his voice dropped even more, so only I could hear him. "You want to talk about it?" the world turned left and right as I shook my head 'no'.

He frowned but accepted my answer. There were loud pops from his knees as he stood up, but he didn't back away until he dropped a soft kiss where my forehead met my hairline. I resumed my breakfast with shaking hands and refused to look at the toast as I ate it. Instead, I chose a point on the far side of the table. In my peripherals I saw Dean give Sam a worried look.

Nobody spoke, which both set me on edge and calmed me. I was grateful that they weren't pushing me for answers, but I also wanted to scream and shout my troubles away.

"What time is it?" I whispered, not really sure if they heard me or not.

"11:23 in the morning." I looked up wearing a curious expression. My head tilted to the right, silently asking why I wasn't in school.

Dad smiled and opened his mouth, but Cas answered first. "You are in no shape to attend school. Also, it is difficult to wake you up on an average morning. It would have been foolish to attempt such a feat when you are in this condition."

To any other person who was not familiar with Castiel's succinct and brutally honest attitude would have been extremely insulted. However, I nodded my head and agreed with their decision.

If I can barely eat toast, how would I fare in precalculus? I looked at Dad and tried to get his attention, but he was busy talking with Dean in hushed whispers. I rolled my eyes slightly, feeling a little bit more like myself.

"Dad," he turned around promptly, giving me his full attention. "Can I go upstairs?" He nodded, not really catching my drift. "No, Dad, I still don't think I can walk right now." I said meekly, ashamed that I wasn't being strong.

Understanding flickered across his eyes as he reached for me. I readily climbed into the security of his strong arms. At the top of the stairs, he was heading back towards my bedroom when I directed him to the bathroom.

I wanted a bath. He rested me on the toilet seat as he started the water and adjusted it to the appropriate temperature. As the basin filled, I lifted my shirt over my head. His eyebrows raised slightly in shock.

"Are you kidding me? I don't care. All those times I passed out when Daddy was gone, I know that it was you who changed me into my pajamas. What makes this any different?" He bobbed his head once, but stood there awkwardly, as if he didn't really know where to look. "You know, I don't care if you see everything, but it is just a _tad _creepy if you watch me take my clothes off."

Finally he turned around and watched the water flow from the spout into the bath. When it was ready, he lifted me once more and gradually lowered me into the scalding hot water.

"I'm going to be downstairs. Just yell if you need anything, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem." He was half-way out the door when he stopped at my voice. "Daddy? Thanks."

His lips curled upwards slowly, moving the mole on his cheek up as well. "Yeah, no problem." He said, echoing my words.

I sat in the water and felt the knots loosen in my joints. The splashing sound of the water was entertaining as it was the only sound in the bathroom. My fingers lazily traced the tattoos on my body, from the anti-possession tattoo above my left breast to the "_Infinity and Beyond"_ on my wrist. My hands froze on the script in the inside of my forearm.

_Happiness can be found in even the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on a light. –Albus Dumbledore_

My favorite book series was Harry Potter. It was also her favorite. They were the last words she ever told me.

Refusing to feel any more pain for the day, I blocked out her image and her scent, and delved beneath the meniscus of the water.

The water surrounded me and plugged my ears. It was starting to sting in my lungs, but I didn't care. The world was blocked out, and only darkness surrounded me.

When oxygen became a growing necessity, I rose from the water and took a deep breath. The water grew cold and my fingers were prunes. The sucking sound that always amused me filled the small area of the bathroom. A fluffy towel appeared at the snap of my fingers and I dried myself off. Testing my strength, I climbed out of the tub slowly and stood on the rug. A few steps forward on the tile and I slipped on the water my feet had transferred to the floor.

There was a large crash when I fell, but all I registered was the pain that was in my legs. The door swung open and Dean appeared. His arms lifted me up and carried me out of the bathroom.

"I thought Sammy told to yell if you needed something."

"I was just trying to walk. And I did, though I slipped on some water, that's all. I'm not incapable."

I was on my bed now and Dean frowned at me. "I never said you were, but right now you just aren't all your full strength. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

"I'm not! But I can at least see if I do need that help or not." He sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Okay. You need any more help?"

"No."

Then he was gone. I looked around the room and padded slowly to the dresser. I donned a pair of black yoga pants, a sports bra, and a shirt that hung below my shoulders. The towel was rubbed frantically over my hair and I flipped it back, not paying it much attention.

With my killer bunny slippers on my feet, I slowly made my way downstairs, put paused midway on the steps when I heard the conversation they were having.

"No, I don't have any idea what this is about. She has told me anything." That was Daddy.

"This is like that one time when she wouldn't speak for weeks after the hunt in Eugene. Except now, she's probably dealing with it." Dean.

"What happened in Eugene?" Castiel.

"We don't know, she would never talk about it." Dad.

"Should we do something?" Dean.

"Not right now, I don't think. She should come to us in her own time." Daddy.

"Do you think she saw something?" Castiel.

"Of course she saw something, you idjit." Bobby. He must have arrived here when I was in the bathroom. "There are few things in this world that can make a girl as strong as her break down in the way that you told me."

I decided that it was time to make my appearance.

"Hey." They all look towards me sharply, an apprehensive look in their eyes, hoping I didn't overhear them.

"Mornin', darlin'. You're looking better than I imagined." I gave him a look that scolded him for the comment.

"Yeah, it's amazing the magical powers a bathtub possesses." I curled up on the couch with the blanket that Daddy had acquired for me.

Then I realized my error. I pulled a bitchface and pointed at the DVD player uselessly. Dad chuckled lightheartedly before obliging. Power button, on; surround sound, on; DVD player, on. "What would you like to watch?"

I spent a moment to contemplate. "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1."

"You just love cheery films, don't you?"

"Way too much that it cannot be healthy." I quipped. The disc was placed in the player and the movie began. The couch dipped on my left and Daddy sat down to watch with me. His hand rested on my ankle, being subtle but soothing.

During the film, the others moved throughout the house, grabbing various books and getting ready to leave on another hunt. However, through the chase scenes and Dobby's death, Daddy remained there by my side, munching on the candy of the day, which just happened to be Crunch bars.

He held me when I shed a few tears for Dobby, and understood to put Part 2 in the player as soon as the first ended.

Around 6pm, the movie was over and I was left in another weeping mess. Bobby had walked in and looked at me as if I had grown an extra head. From my side, I heard Daddy sniffling. A few tears had leaked from his eyes and down his cheeks. For Bobby, we simply pointed at the TV to explain the crying. Bobby shrugged his shoulders and turned around mumbling something under his breath, probably something along the lines of 'idjits'.

The door burst open a few minutes later when Bobby was in the kitchen preparing something for dinner. Jacob rushed into the dining room and saw me on the couch, still curled up with the blanket. "Lucy! Where the hell have you been?" he cried.

My eyes drifted back and forth uncomfortably as I slowly replied. "…Here." He rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock. What happened?" He sat down in a chair diagonal from me. "I was looking for you in the halls yesterday. You had just disappeared. Then you weren't in school today. I thought that something bad had happened."

My walls were quickly being put back up again and I curled up within myself. "I – I don't really want to talk about it. But I'm fine. Physically, anyways."

"Seriously?" his voice indicating he was flabbergasted. "That's all that you're going to give me. You're 'fine'. It's like pulling teeth here."

The rage and pain from yesterday was building up inside me, waiting to lash out. "You should watch what you say. One month is the amount of time that we've known each other. I haven't even told my family what happened, so what makes you think I'll tell you?" I snapped.

He flinched slightly. It wasn't much, but I still saw it. I almost felt guilty but then her face appeared before me. Her image was pushed away immediately as I turned back to Jacob, the fury evident in the irises of my eyes.

"I just thou-"

"Yes, you thought and acted, but you never really thought it through did you. Help yourself to dinner and stay as long as you want, just stay the hell away from me." I stormed up stairs and slammed the door.

My fingers snapped quickly, turning on the TV and the XBOX 360. Without needing to look, Call of duty was in my hands and then in the console. Letting myself get lost in the warfare, my thumbs danced over the buttons with a pointed precision, bearing the brunt of my wrath. With each virtual character I decimated, I saw Lucifer and the motherfucker that took her from me.

A knock sounded on the door, and I made a noncommittal noise acknowledging the presence. I saw Daddy enter cautiously, and sat on the bed in silence. It was unbearable, reminding me of some people who read the computer over your shoulder. I put the game on pause and swiveled in my chair to look at him.

He stared right back, being pointedly neutral. "I'm not going to apologize." I informed him sharply.

His hands raised in surrender. "I didn't say you had to. I was making sure that you cooled down."

I glared and looked at the wall. "I'm peachy."

"Oh, don't be Dean. Here," he held his hand out toward me. "Have a lollipop." In his fingers was a green apple and caramel lollipop, my favorite, and he knew that I could never resist.

I grudgingly leaned forward, snatched the treat, and popped it in my mouth. We sat there in a comfortable silence.

Ten minutes passed. "I saw Lucifer." Daddy turned his head sharply, his expression unreadable. "It was just in my head, but he was in my German class behind Mr. Maack. I had to look at him the whole period until school got out. He wouldn't go away; he just stayed there looking at me with this…look that appeared to go straight through me, as if I couldn't hide anything from him." I drew a shaky breath as I recalled my encounter with him. My knees were tucked into my chest and my arms rested atop them. The hand that wasn't holding the lollipop was picking at my yoga pants nervously.

"As soon as school got out, I left immediately. At first I thought I would go home, but I just…I didn't. I ended up going to this clearing in a forest somewhere near here. I talked with him, asked him what he was doing in my head. Told me that he wanted to meet his niece, the girl that was named after him. Also said that he wanted to have 'fun'. He wants to torture me to get to you guys." Briefly, I flicked my eyes up to Daddy. He was frozen and pale. His breath was shallow. I almost stopped talking, but I just had to continue. I had started, meaning I couldn't stop.

"Then I said somethings to get a rise out of him He got mad and he disappeared."

I looked back up and nothing had changed. Then, oh-so-quietly and leveled, he spoke. "Seeing Lucifer wouldn't make you break down like that. Me, possibly. But you, no. Something else happened."

My throat closed up and I looked at my toes. They needed a pedicure. "I'm – I'm not ready to talk about that."

Hurt flashed across his face momentarily, but he schooled his looks immediately. "You didn't have to talk about whatever it was that made you go catatonic, but you should have told us about Lucifer first thing this morning."

"I wanted to! But I did it for you. I know how much talking about him hurts you. Yes, Lucifer is a dick and you acknowledge that. That doesn't change the fact that Lucifer is your brother and you love him!" my voice rose.

He remained quiet. Slowly, the walked to the window and stared out at it.

"I agree. Lucifer is my brother and I love him; he is a dick. I don't love who he became, I love the Lucifer of old. And yes, it does hurt to talk about him. You know what, though? That doesn't matter." He turned back to me know and I saw the power in his eyes. "You are my _daughter._ I haven't lost you yet and I won't lose you now, especially to Lucifer."

He had moved closer and was at eye level with me. He didn't even blink.

"Next time, because there will be a next time, ignore my feelings and tell us. You're too important."

With that he stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open. A slam came from across the hall, causing me to wince.

Next thing I knew, Bobby was in my room. "The kid left the moment he heard you two children squabbling. Guess he felt guilty causing the damn ruckus. Mind telling me what that's about?"

I rolled my eyes, not really in the mood to talk. "Not really."

"Well it sure is something important if it has the Trickster squakin' at you."

I gave Bobby a hard look. "Lucifer."

His eyes widened. "Lucifer. You mean-"

"Yes, Lucifer; his brother and my uncle."

"What about Lucifer?"

"Not now, Bobby." I sighed.

"Damn it, girl, you listen here."

"No, Bobby, you listen. I appreciate what you're doing – really, I do. You will find out what is going on, I promise, but now is not the time."

He looked like he was going to say something, but I raised my eyebrow. He turned around and walked down the stairs.

I swung the door shut and flopped onto the bed. A groan escaped from my mouth to the pillows. It had been a long fucking day.

Wanting to drown is a pool of sorrow and anguish, I crawled underneath the covers and snapped the lights off.

I lied in bed, stomach growling, for the rest of the night and morning. School was going to be fun tomorrow.

Two mornings later, it was my fifth birthday and we were on a big hunt. During the day I would be in school and then I would go to the motel Dean and Dad were staying at to help. Currently, I was in the motel on weapon-cleaning duty. I was in the process of sharpening the bowie knife when Dad ordered (read: _ordered_) me to go back home and start teaching Jacob how to defend himself.

My mouth dropped open to argue, but he made it so that there was no room for argument. Pissed off and craving a cupcake, I flew to Walla Walla, specifically to Jacob Raine's bedroom.

There, I found something that made me want to toss my cookies. On his bed, he was making out with his girlfriend, Shawna, his hand half-way up her shirt.

I started coughing loudly to get his attention. They broke apart immediately.

"What the hell? Who are you?" Oh, Shawna, wouldn't you love to know.

"Jacob," I demanded. "You wanted to learn the ropes? Here's your opportunity." He gaped like a fish while Shawna just looked at me like I was a demon.

"How the hell did you even get in?"

"Through the door! Get your priorities straight."

"The door's closed." I was going to make a snotty comment, but decided to ignore her.

"Dude, you don't really have an option here. Dad's orders." At that, he resigned and grabbed a few things. He leaned down and kissed Shawna on the cheek in an apology.

When he was taking too long to say goodbye, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the house. Once we were on the street, we appeared in my yard. I couldn't resist teasing him, though.

"Weren't you adorable back there. 'Oh, Shawna, I'm sooo sorry but the evil lady is stealing me away. She is teaching me how to be a _real_ man!'"

He shoved me into the tree. "So, hunting?" I laughed at his horrible segue.

"Yes, hunting. One of the most common creatures hunters face are ghosts. Your defenses are what?"

"Salt lines, iron, etc."

"Good. And how do you defeat them?"

"Salt and burn." The lesson continued like this, quizzing him on how much he knew. Then came the fighting lessons.

As predicted, he failed miserably. Hours later, when it was too dark to continue, we went into the house. I gave him an ice pack and some hot chocolate with marshmallows. Jacob accepted them graciously.

"You have a mean right hook." He commented.

"Strength of an angel would do that to a person. Plus, I am a Winchester."

He was silent when I thought he was going to continue the conversation. "I had-" He chose his words carefully. "I overheard your dad and Dean talking about that one night. They were saying that you completely broke down, but you wouldn't say anything. I don't want to overstep my bounds, but I am curious what it was all about."

My blood ran cold and my grip tightened on the root beer bottle in my hand. I breathed through my nose.

"What I am going to tell you, you don't breathe a word to anyone else. You don't want to know the full extent of my powers." I looked at him pointedly. All of the emotions were written on his face, and all of them were sincere.

"Her name was Naya and she was the best friend I ever had. She had light brown skin and dark, straight hair that ended around her neck. With her at 5'5", I towered over but she was centuries wiser than me. Everything she said, it was as if she understood me completely. I only knew her for three weeks, but they were the best three weeks of my life. She was my first kiss. It was three in the morning and we were at a swing set having a blast. During that time, we just…kissed. And it was wonderful. I loved her, or I could've.

"I had been gone a hunt. We were chasing a few demons through the allies of some town and I just happened to stumble upon one that had a body on the ground. I went to check it out and I saw her on the ground, the life gone from her eyes. Since then, something inside me broke. I wouldn't speak and I barely ate. Let me tell you, my family was really scared for a while.

"When I met you, I was getting better. And then, that day in school, I saw Lucifer and I went to have a chat with him in a forest somewhere. I made him mad and he disappeared. Then I saw her, her spirit, and she was…stunning. I couldn't leave. It was her violet eyes that pulled me in. She set the forest on fire and I still didn't leave. And then I saw blood streaking down her face, her body, and I cried. It was the first time since she died that I cried for her. Once I started, everything went 'All systems go!' and I couldn't stop. I ran as hard as I could out of there back home. Then I collapsed in Dad's arms and let go."

I drew a shaky breath. A few tears had escaped. Throughout my whole story, I didn't dare look at Jacob. I met his eyes and there was no pity, only sympathy.

"That…wow."

I cracked a watery smile. "Yeah…wow."

"So, you're a lesbian?"

A pen on the table to his right flew straight into his head. "Is that seriously all that you picked up from that? You are unbelievable. And yes, I am."

He smiled. "Cool. Now I can be sure that there won't be any weirdness between us."

"Yes, Shawna can be your girlfriend and I will be the best friend to whom you are bonded for life. You have a healthy relationship"

With his mug outstretched, we clinked our beverages.

We were walking home about a week later, something that Jacob had forced me to do. It was a long journey that required a bus and a fifteen minute walk with hills. It was extremely inefficient.

With only the sound of cars to guide us home, Jacob took the opportunity to talk about hunting once more.

"I am just saying that if I am going to be around you guys my whole life, I should go on a hunt with you guys, not just training."

I tried to keep my voice level. "The only way that you are going on a hunt is when me and everyone else deem you ready. In order to be ready, you need to train. That's how it works." I insisted.

"Well then the process is bullshit. I should have at least an idea of what I am fighting to truly be prepared."

"That won't be an issue." I said loftily, obviously getting his hopes up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you can do research and maybe you can fight Crowley for practice." He groaned and marched a few steps ahead of me. We were crossing through the middle school, which was apparently near my house.

"Are you kidding me? You are giving me jack-squat."

"No, I am giving you your life. Once you start hunting, you can never go back. You will be a hunter for the rest of your life."

"Why don't you want me to have this?" I stopped in my tracks. The wind was pushing against my face, nipping at my skin as it brushed past. My hair, wet from rain and froze in clumps and was stinging me as it whipped back and forth. We were on the stairs, one of the landings to be exact, with the expanse of the school behind Jacob, who was facing me, his nose pink and hands tucked into his pockets from the cold.

"What are your dreams?" I asked softly. When he was about to ask 'What?' I repeated my question with the same tone.

"I want to be an actor, on the stage. I'd love to be on Broadway and live in the theatre every day during college. But I don't get what that has to with hunting. I can do that on the side, right?"

"But that's it, don't you see?" I pleaded. "You have these opportunities right now that can be snatched from you the moment you start hunting. Look, I'm all for you knowing how to defend yourself against the baddies when it is needed, but I don't want you going out there looking for them."

I let those words sink in before continuing. "I want you to go to college, I want you to star in all of the plays and musicals, I want you to perform on Broadway. Embrace those chances that I don't have."

At those words, he tried to argue that I did have those chances. I simply smiled and shook my head. "No, I don't. I really don't, but I am okay with that. I don't even think I want them. My whole life, I accepted that I am about twenty percent human, but I always identified myself as an angel. I don't belong here. I don't even have a birth certificate. To this world, I don't exist, and I am okay with that. But you – you do matter. Go to school, have fun, get married, and live the goddamn apple pie life as much as possible. I will be there, always, but I will keep you from this life as much as possible."

"And who said that it's your choice?" I heard him say the words, but not in his voice. My voice rang out in my head, repeating those words to Lucifer. The cement stairs transformed into the bright clearing and Lucifer stood before me, taunting me.

I didn't realize I froze for a considerable amount of time until I felt Jacob's hand on my shoulder, imploring as to what was going on inside my mind.

"It's yours. The choice is yours, but you need to listen to what I am telling you."

He nodded in acquiescence. Slowly but surely I stepped down the next flight of stairs. Jacob caught up with me immediately and offered his elbow. I linked my arm through his, making our positions awkward but no uncomfortable, with our hands tucked into coat pockets.

"So, I can go to college and you'll visit?"

I laughed and nodded my head 'yes.' "As long as you'll help with research if we need it."

He groaned. Up the hill we walked as the students from the middle school walked in the opposite way, laughing and talking with their friends up the stairs and away.

Baby was gone from the driveway when we reached the house. In the depths of the warm house, the outer layers were shed. I called for Daddy, thinking he would've been there. The silence greeted me.

Jacob was talking animatedly, about what I don't know. In the living room I got a fire going, heating the living room.

"So, I guess it's a 'do the homework in the living room in front of the fireplace because it is the only source of heat in this entire goddamn house' kind of day?"

Without looking away from the flames as they danced around or moving from my crouched position, I replied, "You should become the official title-creator for us. Give each hunt an interesting codename."

"I think that Jacob would love that, don't you, Lucy?"

I spun around quickly at the serene voice that wafted through the room. Sitting on the counter was Lucifer. The slate blue shirt he wore was battered and the wife-beater looking as if it had seen better days.

Through the corners of my eyes, I saw Jacob look at him, terror flooding his eyes. _Finally, I'm not the only one who sees him._

"Lucifer, what can I do for you?" I asked calmly.

"Oh, just felt like catching up." With a simple flick of his fingers, Jacob and I were thrust into opposite corners of the room, our head banging on the ceiling.

An invisible object was being pulled taut around our necks. Our hands clutched frantically at our throats but it was no use. I relaxed lightly, knowing I wasn't going to be let down any time soon. Quickly, I glanced at Jacob and saw him struggling, legs flailing wildly underneath him. With the little oxygen I was provided, I gasped out, "Jacob! Relax!" It took a few moments, but he soon heeded my order.

Lucifer stalked the living room beneath us, chuckling darkly. "Your little friend has no idea what he's getting into, does he? Lucy, it is so good to see you again. Dear old Dad didn't really like hearing I was paying you a visit. And how did you like my gift? Naya was very pleased to see you, yes. She asked if I would tell you that she loves you dearly."

I struggled in the restraints, trying to lunge at him, but nothing worked. A large butcher knife from the kitchen floated into the living room, its sharp point dangerously close to Jacob's eye. The fear grew in his face. He jerked suddenly, as something slashed at his back. A muffled scream ripped at my throat, but no sound had come out. Lucifer had, essentially, put me on mute.

As the minutes passed, I watched Lucifer torture Jacob, helpless. In the recesses of my mind, I thought about how this was only a fraction of what Dad suffered during his year in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael. It was unfathomable the pain he endured. I had the urge to see him suddenly and wrap him in a tight hug.

Then it stopped; the blood, the blades, and Jacob's soundless cries of agony all ceased. The tight hold on Jacob's throat was released and Jacob flew onto the floor, exhausted. The yellow wall behind him had Jackson Pollock's paintings done only with his blood. Lucifer slowly turned back towards me, a glint in his eye.

A whip of the air sounded and nothing more. The floor greeted me happily as I collapsed onto it. Lucifer was gone. I looked at Jacob and noticed his wide chocolate eyes as they bore into me. He wasn't making eye contact, though. I followed his gaze and saw a long silver blade protruding from my abdomen. It extended to a gold hilt and a swirling handle of a sword.

The blade held sigils and Enochian symbols. He had stabbed me with my sword. A pool of blood was forming, leaking through my white sweater. It was then when I felt the pain and I let out a yelp of surprise. The pain was swelling and black spots appeared in my vision.

"Don't worry, Lucy. We'll get some help."

I felt myself slip into shock, my body unmoving. In a blurry haze, I saw paramedics rush in and help Jacob and press right on my wound. My sword was tossed aside with little care.

Moving, moving, always moving. I reached out, calling for Dad, Dean, Cas, and Daddy. There were frantic shouts around me.

"Daddy, he is there. Not…not in my head. The light-bringer. He's here." I mumbled, hoping that Daddy would hear me.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep. _Over and over, there was a constant beep. Goddamn alarm. My hand reached over to turn it off, hitting something hard in the process. I felt a tug on my arm, it would not got any further. With more force I tried to move my arm out, to stop the incessant beeping, but it still wouldn't budge. My breath hitched as I moved my arm faster and the beeping became more and more frequent.

Suddenly there were warm chains pushing me down, pulling my arm in. I resisted, fighting back against the restraints with as much strength as possible. It did not work and the beeping continued to exist. Something smashed on a wall. There were more chains tethering me down and then it disappeared into blackness.

My eyelids fluttered. I heard the beeping once more and I moved to shut it up. My arm was restricted from movement and I began to panic.

"Lucy." A calm voice said. Its warmth enveloped me in a hug, my muscles relaxing. The veil of darkness lifted to see stark white walls around me. It felt cold, nothing the warmth I just felt. It needed to be found again. Darting around the small room frantically, my eyes searched and searched until they landed in the golden pools of Daddy's eyes. The rest of his face took shape, and I breathed.

My throat closed on me as I tried to speak. Cool glass was placed on my lips and a refreshing liquid raced down my esophagus, acting as a balm.

"I don't think you should speak right now, you were in a pretty good chokehold for a while, so it will be difficult to speak for a while. Take it easy." He said softly. I nodded. My hand reached for his weakly, and his palm felt good on mine. Callused fingers brushed the top of my hand, running in small circles.

"You are in the hospital, the ICU, and recovering from a stab wound. According to Jacob, who took a rough beating himself, a sword was plunged into your abdomen, a harsh wound for anyone to receive. A lot of blood was lost." He choked a little, as if there was something caught in his vocal chords.

"For about a day and a half, you were unconscious. I'm just glad you're okay." I nodded, not really knowing what else to do. "I apologize for not being the most civil towards you as I should've been. I was just upset that you didn't tell me about Lucifer in the forest." I flinched. "So, I apologize. And don't scare me like that ever again, you hear?"

I weaved our fingers as to say 'yes'.

Another night had passed and I was able to speak again. The nurses had moved me to a different room in the children's ward because the other one was needed for a different patient. To be honest, I liked it more. The paintings of the various fish on the wall made the room more welcoming and soothing than the emptiness of the blank, white walls.

Not a moment passed when I was alone. Every few hours, they would trade posts. The cycle went Daddy, Bobby, Dean, Dad, then finally both Cas and Jacob. While it was touching that they remained vigilant at my bedside, it got annoying in the moments when I desperately needed to pee. Once, a dew of the stitches had popped out, and one of the nurses had to come in to reset them.

While the room was fun for five hours, there was nothing else to do. I didn't have access to Wi-Fi, so I couldn't log on to Netflix. Daytime television was atrocious, so that was out of the question. That left books. Dean had brought me my Harry Potter books, and I spent the whole time reading those.

Every time I flipped through those pages, they never grew old. It was as if I was reading them for the first time, even though the frayed pages and well-loved bindings told a different story. I was always able to find something new, something that I never understood about the books.

With each word I read, I would fall in an even deeper love with my favorite character, Lord Voldemort. That's not to say that I agreed with the things he did and that he set a good example for humankind, but I loved him because he was so versatile. He was such a simple character, but there was a lot to him, making him complex. Also, he was a hypocrite, but nobody besides a few people knew.

I knew every event that was going to occur, yet I still gasped in shock, laughed at the jokes I had memorized, and cried when my favorite characters died.

The nurses let me out of the hospital about a week after I was admitted. It wasn't something to really be excited about, though. I was placed on bed rest for the next few days and pain medication was a necessary evil.

Dads were downstairs doing some research, Dean was out in the driveway working on Baby, Bobby had gone back to his home is Sioux Falls, and Cas was in the kitchen making lunch.

I was upstairs in my bedroom on my bed, which had been moved to face the small entertainment center. In my hand was the controller for the Playstation, on which I was kicking ass on Kingdom Hearts. Insomnia had been affecting me again. I didn't mind so much.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw Lucifer, his eyes taunting me, and I saw Naya with her murderous stare. Under my eyelids, the brick alley with the graffiti on every square inch would construct itself, in the dead of night and no starts to be seen, her corpse lying there in the puddle. The blood would be trickling from the stab wound in her abdomen. It was on my hands, underneath my fingernails. I would rush to the far side of the alley, away from Naya, and retch the contents of my stomach onto the dried gum and condom wrappers.

My chapped lips would lean close and kiss her on the forehead, her cheeks, her cold lips. I would pull away, knowing that nothing could be done. Before I leave, I brush my hand over her violet eyes, so that it would look as if she was sleeping.

The virtual sword swung a little bit harder than necessary as I tore my brain away from that night. The tears were behind my eyes, but they never did fall. A flutter of wing beats signaled Cas' arrival. In his arms were a stack of papers and a plate holding a croissant sandwich. My mouth salivated.

The papers were placed delicately at the foot of the bed. The controller was put on the side my leg, the game on pause. The bed dipped as Castiel sat down against the pillows. I grabbed the plate from him and delved into the sandwich graciously.

It was a gorgeous sandwich. The butter croissant absorbed a proper amount on mayonnaise and mustard while the lettuce on both sided acted as a barrier for the salami and pepperoni that rested on top and below the sliced tomatoes and bacon in the middle.

My eyelids fluttered closed as the flavors mixed into a delicious amalgam.

"Kudos, Uncle Cas. This sandwich is a work of art."

He smiled lightly and accepted the praise warmly. "When one is bonded to Dean Winchester, he or she learns how to create the ideal sandwiches. His appreciation for the meal seemed to have passed down to you."

"I will take that as a compliment."

"As you should." It was quiet for a minute, save for me chewing on the sandwich. "Who stabbed you?" He asked bluntly.

"I am assuming that Daddy informed you of what occurred in the clearing." At his nod, I continued. "It happened again, except this time Jacob could see him. At first, I thought that it was because of the bond, the ability to see Lucifer. It didn't make sense to me, though. And then I got stabbed by my own sword, and I still bled, even after Lucifer left. That's when I realized that it has to be something more. Maybe Lucifer is getting stronger and breaking out of the Cage, I don't know."

He contemplated my answer but did not respond. Considering the conversation over, I resumed eating. Castiel picked up the controller and inspected it curiously. I pressed play for him.

He was startled as the sound effects filled the room. Yelling orders at him, because I didn't want to lose my high scores, he frantically tried to kill the enemies. "Press A! Press A!"

I hadn't laughed that hard in a while, and I thought that the incision was going to have to be re-stitched.

I was back at school on December 10th, a Wednesday, and nobody seemed to comment on my absence, except for maybe Ms. Parker. When I entered her room fourth period, she said my name loudly and even gave me a hug. It was kind of funny, but really sweet. Jacob was laughing, saying something about an older woman at five-foot-three was embracing a six-feet-tall five year old. I punched him in the joint where shoulder met arm, which promptly shut him up. The project that we were doing involved capturing motion, something that was interesting but difficult to do. When I did a project similar to this one at my old school, the trickiest part was finding subjects to take pictures of, especially amidst the plethora of hunts we had at the time.

The project was due in a few days, but she was gracious enough to give me a huge extension. At the end of class, even though I wasn't supposed to go off-campus, I wanted to go somewhere else, so I bribed Jacob to come with me instead of eating with Shawna and his other friends in the drama room. On the same landing where I took him right before I gave him back his memories, I flew us to a place he had never been before and was sure to blow him away: London.

We landed near in Hyde Park and there were lots of Christmas decorations up, strings of lights in the trees.

"Holy shit, Luce, where are we?"

"London." I answered, as if it was no big deal.

"London?" he repeated.

"London. It's around eight o'clock and would you look at that," I said gesturing to the park around me. "It's snowing in Hyde Park." I snapped my fingers and snow started falling slowly from the sky in large flakes. It was even sticking. The kids all looked up and began cheering, informing their parents of the wondrous event. I walked down a path in the street, not even bothering to see if he was following.

Quick footsteps sounded behind me and Jacob was at my side. "You make it snow and you don't even give us some winter clothes?"

My black pea coat surrounded me in warmth; Jacob and I were decked out in gloves, hats, and scarves. He smiled, letting himself get lost in the magic of it all.

"Okay, you are officially the coolest friend ever." Walking for a few minutes more, I grabbed his gloved hand in my own and ran through the streets of London, among the cigarette butts and double decker buses.

We stopped at a café a few blocks away from the park and took a seat in the corner by the window. The lights were dimmed and candles were on each table. A waiter, Cameron, took our drink orders. I had a hot chocolate and Jacob had a coffee. Making small talk, we were scolded a few times by other customers for disturbing their meals with laughter.

"I have been wondering about this for a while," Jacob started. "When I graduate from high school, what are you going to do?"

We were in the midst of our meal, which was scrumptious, and I placed my fork down on the plate slowly.

"I have been thinking that, too. I've decided that once you graduate, at the end of my junior year, I will dropout. I don't need the public education offered. A lot of it I already know, especially history, and I have read enough books that I know what chemicals work to make a big boom and obliterate the baddie of the week."

"But…"

"Jacob, you can go to college and pursue your dream, but my life is set. I agree that you are almost ready to go on some hunts. You had fucking Lucifer torture you and you're holding up. Maybe it's time you started being involved on hunts. That doesn't mean I think that you should be completely involved."

I saw the triumph in his eyes as I partially acquiesced to his wishes. Glancing at the underside of his wrist for the time, he was astonished.

"Lucy, lunch fifteen minutes ago."

"So?" His head snapped up to look at me in bewilderment.

"So? So? I have never skipped a class and I am not going to start now." I got my wallet out from my bag and placed a few banknotes on the table.

As I dragged him out of the café, we slowly strolled on the sidewalk, elbows linked. "Do you really think I'd let you skip class? Don't worry about it, I can take us back right before lunch ends. We are in _London, England,"_ I said, the amazement evident in my voice. "Forget about school and seize the day. We can go to Harrod's or go on the London Eye. We can visit Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square; the British History Museum. Do you want to have fun?"

A large, toothy smile had appeared on his face, and he nodded eagerly. True to my word, we did the visited the tourist attractions. London from the top of the large Ferris wheel never failed to take my breath away. We went into the chaos that was Harrod's, filled with bodies from wall to wall finishing their Christmas shopping.

At King's Cross, I picked up two maps of the Underground, one for him and one for me. Between Platforms 9 and 10, we imagined that we were eleven years old and getting ready to get on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. People gave us strange looks, but we didn't care. We were having a blast.

We took a train, we don't know where to, but we took it and got off at a random station. Rock, paper, scissors decided which way we would go on each street corner. The pavement led us to an empty playground.

"If it's not too much to ask, and you don't have to say yes, but would you like to join me on the swings?" He asked softly. I turned my head and looked at him. His cheeks were pink, along with his nose.

I felt warm despite the cold seeping in through my jacket. "Jacob Raine, I would be honored to join you on the swings." The smile he gave me was dazzling. "Race you!" And I took off running.

"Hey! That's cheating." On the swings we flew high, seeing who could get higher. We were equally matched. Our legs were tired soon. We lazily moved back and forth until Jacob started spinning quickly, combining the two chains until it spun back around.

I quickly followed him until we were dizzy. I flung myself forward into the snow, which now covered the ground entirely at a few inches thick. On my back, I looked at the stars. Jacob laid down next me. I pointed at the constellations, telling him what I knew about them. During my explanation of Sagittarius, he made a snow angel.

"That's racist." I stated, making him pause and look at me quizzically.

"What?" I gestured to the snow angel.

"The snow angel – it's racist. Wings do not look that wimpy."

He sat up, his black jacket covered in white snow. "Well, then, what do wings look like?"

I set my jaw. "You aren't prepared for their awesomeness."

"Show me your wings or I will surround you with snow angels." Dammit, this kid was irritating. I peeled off my jacket, not ready for the biting cold.

Even though I was wearing multiple layers, they wouldn't hinder my wings. Taking off the coat, though, made it less uncomfortable.

I let my wings unfurl from their confines in my back. Fiery red feathers covered the entire span of my wings, which was about eleven feet on either side of my body.

Jacob was there in front of me, his mouth agape. His hand reached forward slightly, but did not attempt at touching them.

I rolled my eyes. "Jacob, go ahead. I know you want to, so touch them. They are highly sensitive, though, so be careful." He nodded briefly, his chocolate eyes still wide.

Then, ever-so-gently, his fingers brushed along the soft feathers. It tickled. I squirmed slightly. When he continued, I erupted in peals of laughter, and tucked my wings back slightly.

"Sorry, it tickles." I said at his frightened expression. He calmed somewhat. I extended the wing that he was touching towards him, and he obliged.

He marveled for a few minutes longer before I shivered from the cold. The red wings folded once more into my back and donned my coat once more. We left the playground talking animatedly.

"Can we go to a currency exchange?"

"Sure, no problem." Two minutes later, he held about 100 pounds in his hand.

"Seriously? Why do you need that much money?" He shrugged.

"I saw something that I wanted to buy. I think it was just a few blocks away." We strolled on the sidewalk for five blocks, our elbows linked once more. Three more blocks and we were in front of a shop called Ariadne's Books. It had a small, arching door. I reminded me a little of the doors the hobbits had in the Shire. The front of the building was decked out in Christmas lights and the orange glow among the rows and rows of shelves was irresistible.

The door chimed as we entered. Jacob let me go and inspect the various titles in the bookcases while he went and bought whatever it was. By the time Jacob had found me again, I was sitting down in one of the aisles reading a leather-bound copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. _He smirked at me and sat down against the bookcase opposite me. A paper bag was at his foot, where I stretched to see what was in the bag. He pulled it away quickly.

"You don't get to see it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's your Christmas gift." I smiled widely.

"You got me a Christmas gift? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. You ready to go?" I nodded and stood up, though I didn't put the book away. "You're getting the book?"

"Yup." I said, popping the 'p'. At the counter, I bought the book and asked for it to be wrapped.

"I thought you were getting it for yourself?"

"I was, but I have read it already, but Dad hasn't and he has never had a classic novel be leather-bound. Why not start my Christmas shopping now, even though we never really celebrate it?"

Ariadne, the store owner, was smirking slightly. "Thank you for coming in today. Happy holidays, you two."

"Thank you." We chimed together as we left the bookstore.

"Do we have everything?" Jacob asked.

"Yes."

"Have we done everything we wanted to?"

"I could never be done doing things in London."

"I agree with you whole-heartedly, but I am getting kind of tired and we still have to finish the last three periods of school."

I groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Lucy." He warned. I sighed, complying before he got really annoying. I grabbed his wrist and flew back to Lincoln High School in Walla Walla.

We appeared on that same landing (empty, thankfully) with our winter gear gone, but still carrying our souvenirs. Climbing the stairs two at a time, we skipped through the halls to our lockers. When we separated at mine, he leaned forward to peck me on the cheek and give me a light hug.

In my ear he whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Letting go, he turned to walk away.

"Next time, we are going to Amsterdam."

The next week, we took an excursion to Amsterdam, just as he requested. It was his birthday, and what was a better gift than exploring Amsterdam without even needing a passport or a long flight in uncomfortable chairs?

It was the 16th at 10 at night, the day before Jacob's birthday, and I persuaded him to skip the whole school day entirely. It took a while, but it worked. I appeared in his room to see Jacob working on homework. He looked up at the sound of my wings. AP Micro/Macroeconomics was tossed aside as I grabbed his wrist and flew away. We appeared in the cold wind of the morning, the clouds grey and hanging low.

According to the world, it was seven in the morning, and we would spend the whole day in Amsterdam.

"Happy birthday, Jacob Raine."

"But it's not my birthday. It's still ten o'clock on the sixteenth."

"In Walla Walla, yes. But in Amsterdam it is seven in the morning on December 17th. Happy birthday."

He spun around, taking in the places before him. There were tendrils of his breath emanating from his mouth.

"Oh my God. This is…AMSTERDAM. You took me to Amsterdam!" Suddenly, I got a face full of Jacob as he hugged me tightly.

"Oof!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" He lifted me off the ground and swung me around.

With my feet planted firmly on the cobblestone again, I gestured to all of Amsterdam. "Jacob Raine, where would you like to go first?"

We went across the street to a bakery and chocolate shop. Drooling on the glass cases, there were dark chocolate-filled croissants, which I could not resist, and truffles with coconut in the middle. Needless to say, we bought lots of sugary things.

Next, we went to the Van Gogh Museum and marveled like the little nerds we were at his magnificent paintings. During that time, we made several references to the Doctor who episode, _Vincent and the Doctor_, and pretended that we were in the Musée d'Orsay. Crossing as many bridges as possible over the canals, we climbed the Amsterdam sign and got somebody to take to photos with the Polaroid I brought.

For lunch, we stopped at a little sandwich shop and had the best sandwiches ever, even better than Castiel's.

After stopping at many bookshops and buying a few blown glass ornaments, we went to the Red Light District. Despite the content, it was really cool because it wasn't as awkward as being there with your parents. Leave it to us to make it highly intellectual and scientific. The discussion led to the episode of Curiosity, the program on the Discovery channel, about why women orgasm. For such an out of place topic, we were very nonchalant about it and actually enjoyed talking about it. It was…interesting.

We saw toured the Anne Frank Huis spent a lot of energy trying to remain positive and not get depressed. It took a lot out of us.

He promised me, to keep tradition, that we would visit a playground, but not without stopping someplace first. He led me to a planetarium. Sitting in the plush seats, I mojo'd a small bag of popcorn for us.

"Why did you take us here? It's your day; you don't have to appease me." He looked at me as if I was an idiot.

"For being a Ravenclaw, you really are an idiot sometimes."

I scoffed. "Annoying Gryffindor." I said under my breath.

"I wanted to take you here and I wanted to see a planetarium. I've never been in one before."

"Never?" He shook his head no. I stopped talking to him and let him watch the show.

Soon we found ourselves on the familiar feel of a swing. We didn't swing for long, though. The playground was empty so we climbed on it like little kids even though we were both six feet tall.

In the bright yellow, enclosed swirly side, I got stuck. When I told him, embarrassed, about my predicament, he burst out in laughter. The mirth in his eyes was practically audible. To get me out (even though I could've just flown) he went to the front of the slide, reached in through the opening and pulled down on my ankles. It took a few tries, but I eventually got out and hit my head on the top of the slide in the process. He laughed until he was red in the face. Then he felt the sharp jab of my foot in his shin, shutting him up.

When we got back to Walla Walla, we were bearing gifts and tons of laughter. He had bought his mom a really cool painting and a typewriter for his dad.

My family, on the other hand, was much more difficult. My gift for Dean was in the middle of being made and I had already bought something for Dad. It took us forever, considering we had to buy gifts for beings that could have anything the ever wanted at the snap of their fingers.

In a side trip to France, I found several ornate frames that would hold all of my photographs for Daddy, and for Cas I got him a collector's copy of Julia Child's _Mastering the Art of French Cooking._

Deciding once and for all that my family would celebrate Christmas this year, whether or not they liked it, we set up a tree and lights and ornaments. The house was decorated and wrapped presents were placed under the tree.

Both of our families were gone for the next few days, so we took the liberty to combine the ingredients in both kitchens to make several batches of cookies. Besides those few weeks with Naya, it was some of the most fun I had ever had. Several cups of coffee later and in the wee hours of the morning, I was getting my ass handed to me in Super Smash Brothers.

He started collapsing around 5 in the morning. His tall and lanky frame was curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets. As his eyes were drifting closed, I heard a soft, "Thanks, Lucy."

I smiled softly and fell into a dreamless sleep on the floor.

The town was blanketed in snow, bringing with it a soothing silence that I loved. Granted, I love storms, especially when it's at night and the rain is pounding against the window, but snow was different. Somehow, with its delicate descent to the ground it would drastically change even the loudest of cities. It is remarkable how something so small can do so much.

Jacob's parents were going to be out of town the whole break (even over Christmas) so we let him stay at our place. When I mentioned why he wasn't staying with Shawna, he told me that they had broken up a few days before his birthday. I gave him a cookie; rather I shoved three directly in his face. For the first time in a month, everybody was back at home. I had forgotten what it had felt like and I couldn't be happier. We were sitting in the living room, the fireplace burning away. On the myriad of tables, bowls of scented pinecones were set out amongst the small glass towers with ornaments. Lights were strung all over the place and stocking were hung. In the far corner, a tall tree stood, looking as if a decorations box vomited all over the green pine. Jacob joked about putting an angel at the top of the tree but stopped when he felt a bucket of pens being dumped on top of his head.

It was mid-evening and dinner had been put away. On the couch, chairs, and the floor we sat laughing our heads off. The TV had Pandora playing, the Christmas station playing, and I couldn't help but notice how relaxed Dean and Dad were. From what I could tell, it had to be the first time they properly celebrated Christmas, according to the apple pie lifestyle.

Occasionally, after some a few glasses of eggnog with Kahlua, Dean would try singing along with the music until we felt like our ears were going to bleed. Somehow, Daddy had persuaded me and Jacob to do the singing, considering we were the only good singers in the house. I was extremely nervous because it was the first time I had really sung in front of my family, but Jacob, being the charismatic theatre geek he was, had a blast.

I was surprised as to how much everyone was enjoying this. Christmas had always been difficult for Dad and Dean growing up. With their dad, John, on the road hunting all the time and living in motel after motel, Christmas never really happened. When I looked over at them though, they were laughing and smiling. We have always been a close family, but never have I felt this happy with them and still be close.

Dad would say it was because of the move into the house, the stability it provided (and he would be right), but I would just flick him on the ear and tell him to stop talking about things he doesn't know. All was going well. Cas was trying to teach Daddy the proper way to decorate cookies, however Castiel seemed to have forgotten that Daddy would do anything to piss him off. Brotherly love and all that jazz.

Jacob was telling me how his family had a tradition of watching the twenty-four hour marathon of A Christmas Story every year and then watching Charlie Brown, followed by five viewings of Elf. He grabbed a Blu-Ray disc of A Christmas Story as he was telling me this, and I couldn't help but think how much Jacob had become my best friend, a lot like a brother, when the lights flickered.

Out of hunter instincts, our hands were soon filled with guns, knives, and swords. Daddy had grabbed some salt, ready to make salt lines. There was a large boom from down the street and the power went down.

"Maybe a transformer blew." I whispered.

"Or it's a douchebag of a demon." Dean snapped.

"Just shut up!" That was Dad. We weren't in complete darkness, though. The flames from the fireplace were flickering across the walls. We stood there, weapons at the ready, for a few minutes. When nothing happened, we lowered the weapons and relaxed.

"Lucy's right. It was probably just a transformer." Dad said. Except I wasn't right. From down the road, we heard a loud shriek. In an instant, we were out the door, sprinting to the danger. It proved to be a difficult task, running, considering the lack of traction we had with the snow and ice.

In the house down the road a ways and on the other side we burst in to find the Christmas decorations and family portraits covered in thick layers of blood and internal organs.

"Holy shit!" Jacob exclaimed. We turned sharply to see him looking at the ceiling. Following his gaze, we all drew in a breath when we saw the horror up there. Five bodies hung upside down, mutilated, the glazed and open eyes going straight through ours. Even more appalling was the young children. The oldest daughter, who couldn't have been older than seven, was clutching her teddy bear. A little boy, who looked to be around four years old, was right next to his father, clutching at the pant leg, unmoving.

Worst of all was what was in the mother's arms. A bundle of blankets lay there, still. From our positions on the now red carpet we could easily see a little baby boy, thumb tucked into his mouth. If it weren't for the large pieces of flesh removed from his body, he could've just as easily been asleep.

I felt the bile rise in my throat but I worked to keep it down. We needed to find the son of a bitch that did this.

In the background, I heard Jacob retching violently in the sink and Daddy rushing to check on him.

"You alright, kid?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Better than they are." Jacob replied.

"Hello, you numpties. Isn't it just a real treat for me today? I get to meet the Winchesters _and _their little friends."

In the corner of the living room, leaning against the upright piano, was some guy with blood dribbled down the sides of his mouth. He couldn't be any older than seventeen; the human the demon was possessing anyway. A downside to being an angel, or part-angel, was seeing a demon in a true form. It is part of the reason I am now an insomniac.

He stopped laughing when he was looking down the barrel of Dean's gun. Then he cracked up. "Oh, itty bitty Winchester, did your testicles finally drop?" The safety of the gun turned off. "You guys have bigger fish to fry than just me."

He vanished, and Dean cursed loudly.

"Oh, by the way," he returned suddenly, at the top of the staircase. "The name is Silas." He was gone again, in a black dust.

In the distance we could hear the plethora of car alarms going off. All of us, we turned to one another and had Daddy take us into town. We appeared on Main Street. It was completely black but we wanted to pull our ears off.

"MAKE IT STOP!" Jacob yelled over the racket. Daddy snapped his fingers and it was silent.

Forming a circle in the middle of the street, we took stock of the weapons we had. "Daddy, Cas – any idea of Silas is?"

"No fucking clue." Replied Daddy.

We continued checking the weapons, making sure there were enough bullets, when I noticed that Dad and Dean froze. They were both looking in the same direction and when I followed their gaze, I saw an older man, probably in his fifties, with short curly brown hair and a 'no funny business' demeanor.

"Dad." I heard Dean breathe. John Winchester. He did not say nor do anything, simply continued to walk forward. Out of nowhere, a blonde woman in a white dressing gown appeared next to John and linked her elbow with his.

"Mom?" Dad said, surprised. Then she was Mary Winchester, who died when Dad was just six months old.

My blood ran cold. I gripped my sword tighter, till I had a white-knuckle grasp on it. Kneeling down in attack mode, I prepared myself for what was to come.

The darkened street transformed my very eyes into the clearing. John and Mary Winchester morphed into Naya, standing by the fallen log with the torch in her hand; the violet eyes staring straight into my eyes and the blood coming in streaks down her body.

"Dean, Dad – they aren't your parents." I gritted out.

"How do you know?" Dean asked.

"Because I've seen this before."

"What do you mean?" Dad questioned. I looked back towards the circle. They were all looking towards me now, imploring.

"This…I've seen it happen before, on that one day." Cas opened his mouth to ask which day, but Daddy answered him before he had the chance to ask.

"Lucifer."

"Yeah, that day."

Dean stepped closer to me, hands resembling a surrender. "Wait a minute, you mean to say that on the same day that you saw Lucifer, you also saw our parents?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Don't be an idiot."

"Then how could you have seen something like this before?" I rolled my eyes.

"Jeepers creepers, you guys really are slow sometimes." Pinching my nose, I told the short version. "It wasn't Mary and John I saw, it was Naya. She was my fr – she was my girlfriend. I knew her for only a short amount of time, but I loved her, or I think I did. If I had a longer time with her, then yes, I would've fallen in love with her. But that's not the point; the point is that during those few months when I was just _so_ detached, it was because I found her body in alley. She was stabbed."

I breathed through my nose, forcing the image of that night away from my brain.

"In the clearing, after Lucifer disappeared, I saw her, doing the same exact thing John and Mary are doing now – not responding, just staring. Next thing that happened was she set the forest alight and then blood started pouring down her face. That's when I ran. Whatever the hell has been going on, the one thing that I am positive about is that they aren't your parents. I don't know what they are, but they _are not your parents._"

It pained me to say it to them, but it had to be said. I saw the hope and desperation in their eyes. Dad swallowed and turned to me. "So, how do we get rid of them?"

"I don't know." My voice broke. They were near us now. I couldn't see anything on fire in their hands or any sort of lethal weapons.

I heard it before I saw it; a whip of air and a flash of silver from behind Dad. Moving as fast as possible, I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down to the ground. He landed straight on top of me. I heard the dagger land in the Jeep on the side of the road.

Rolling Dad off of me, I stood up and saw a blonde girl, early twenties, with a vengeful look in her eyes. From the pavement, Dad breathed a faint "Jess." I rolled my eyes and looked towards the night sky, the snow still falling softly.

Of course, it just happened to be Dad's ex-girlfriend. Somehow, she pulled out a sword and held it out, challenging. What kind of a swordswoman would I be if I turned down a fight?

Grabbing my sword and stepping towards Jess-wannabe slowly, tauntingly, I raised my sword to meet hers.

In a flurry of shiny metal and gold, the snow was soon covered in a beautiful splatter painting of blood and dismembered limbs. When I looked at the mess, her head was lying next to a car wheel and the intestines were strewn about haphazardly. I had blood in my hair and in my mouth.

For the second time that night, I felt like throwing up.

"Huh," I said breathlessly. "She bled. That's new for ghosties." I saw Dad's horrified expression and guilt started gnawing at my insides. He had been planning on proposing to her before she was killed by ol' Yellow Eyes. As soon as I had said those words, everything except the blood vanished.

"Where'd she go?" Jacob asked. He was putting on a brave face, but his voice gave him away. That and his trembling hand.

"I…I have no clue." I replied. Cleaning myself up a bit with my sleeve, I looked around.

"OH! How could I be so _stupid?_" I exclaimed.

"What the hell do you mean?" Dean demanded. I pivoted to gape at him.

"We missed it? Something is off, something is missing." Glancing at all of their eyes, they didn't understand what I was hinting at.

"Um…Luce, you aren't making any sense."

"I'm making perfect sense, you just aren't keeping up! That doesn't matter. We are in a small town and from what we can tell the power to the whole town is gone. Next, all of the car alarms are going off. After that, there is the showdown between me and bleeding ghosty. We are on fricking Main Street, home of the few stoplights in this city, which implies a greater amount of traffic than other locations around the town." I paused, hoping that they would catch on.

Five faces stared back at me, bewildered. I groaned.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

"Lucy, stop quoting Doctor Who and Sherlock as if you are superior than us." Jacob snapped.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Jacob glared. "Fine, I'll stop. They just seemed fitting. A greater amount of traffic suggests that there is a greater amount of _people_. That's what's missing. Something bad has happened. So where are all the people?" I asked loudly. I saw the understanding grow in their faces.

Dad and Cas were looking around at the various buildings for any signs of life. I grabbed Jacob's wrist and dragged him into the bakery first. As the bell chimed when we entered, we were suddenly back in the neighbors' house, the bodies hanging upside down, except the body count was more and the blood was _everywhere. _I went behind the counter and looked in the display case. The owner, Charlie, was shoved in there, internal organs hanging out from his side. They laid in a batch of red velvet cupcakes.

"Aww, not the red velvet cupcakes." I complained.

Jacob turned to me, aghast. "Are you serious? That's Charlie, the nicest guy I've ever known, and you're complaining about the fucking _cupcakes?_"

"I know he's nice! I came here one day when I was feeling particularly shitty and he gave me whatever I wanted on the house. I don't have time to mourn everyone's death. If I did, I would be comatose from grief overload. But I will allow myself to grieve over something minute, insignificant, which just happens to be red velvet cupcakes."

He rolled his eyes and turned away, most likely ignoring my flawed logic. "Jacob," I said softly. He didn't turn back around, but I knew he was listening. "You will never be prepared for this kind of thing. It will always be really bad every time you see it. If you don't, however, you might as well be as bad as my dad that one time he didn't have his soul. But in hunting, death of this magnitude is inevitable. Right now, I need you to accept the facts, the positives, and just how shitty the situation is."

"And what are those? I'm guessing that everybody in this town, the people I've known my entire life, are dead, so get to the point and tell me what those goddamn facts are!"

"You are alive," he snorted. "Listen to me! You are alive; your parents are out of town, meaning that they are alive; something has been going on in this town; we have been seeing Lucifer and deceased loved ones; the ghosties that we have been seeing can bleed. Those are the facts, and that's what we need to focus on. When this is all over, we can grieve. Come on, let's get out of here." I stalked back out of the establishment, boots crunching over what looked to be glass and a shattered clavicle.

Back out on the snow, I met up with the group.

"Everyone's dead, just like at the house." Castiel informed.

"We know, we saw." I replied.

"So what the hell do we do?" Dean asked.

"Well, we can pretty much say that whatever it is, it is after us. It knows our loved ones, the ones who have died, and are using them to try and kill us."

"Can we go into hiding?" Dean asked again.

"Are you fucking crazy, Dean-O? We can't hide from them. They can most likely find us." Everybody was quiet once more, overworking our brains for a strategy.

"Would that work?" I mumbled to myself.

"Would what work?" Daddy asked.

"I don't know, could it?" I went on, not hearing him. "I mean it's outside of what normal baddies could find, but this isn't your average baddie. We might just have to take that chance, but we would need to get Bobby first. It's not exactly the bravest thing to –"

"LUCY!" Dad bellowed. I looked up, startled. "Care to tell us what you're thinking?"

Oh, right. They don't read minds. Well, Daddy and Cas do, but they choose not to. "Daddy, you told me about a home that you had while you were Loki and the Trickster. We could use it as a safehouse."

Daddy pondered it for a while. "I don't know if it will keep us safe."

"Neither do I, but what else will? Do we have any other options?"

Several minutes passed as they racked the recesses of their brains for solutions. "None that I can think of right now, kiddo." Dad acquiesced.

Once more, we all gathered around and vanished, the bloodshed and misery fading behind the three pairs of wing beats.

We were in the piano room. The large ballroom was littered with pianos, from baby grands to grands to uprights and little tiny keyboards. There was a large one that you could step on and play with your feet. The ceiling was huge, having a dome like the one at the Capitol Building. Several chandeliers hung from various heights, reminding me of Vampire Weekend's first album. The most interesting part, however, was what lay outside the windows. There was a large window on each wall. The one in front of me was in the dead of night during the fall, a huge storm brewing. Moving to the right, the next window had a sunset from what could've been the Swiss Alps. Turning around, it was the middle of the day in a large path bordered by Cherry Blossoms in their prime season. Finally, it was twilight, the night sky painted various shades of dark blues and blacks and some dark greens as well. The stars were just starting to be visible, and the full moon was partially hidden by some clouds. A meadow with tall grass lay underneath the sky, swaying gently in the breeze. I could see in the distance tendrils of smoke rising. Straining my eyes, I could see that there was a beach, somehow right next to a meadow, a bonfire dancing wildly.

"Can we stay here, in this room, forever?" I breathed. Dad snorted.

"I'm glad to see you're impressed. Why would you like to stay here, anyways? There isn't any food or books or video games. It's boring."

"But…pretty! And pianos! I could live here."

"C'mon kiddo, there is more where that came from." We stroll through the labyrinth of the house, staring in awe at the various rooms we see through the doors. In one of the doors, there is a bakery. Jacob, whose hand has been resting in mine, flinches at the sight, still probably living the nightmare on Main Street. Coincidentally, Charlie's bakery was on the intersection of Main Street and Elm Street.

That's when I noticed it – the piano room. It was across from the movie theater. It didn't make sense though, because the piano room was far away from where we were, lost somewhere among the twisting corridors.

"How…wasn't that room back there?" Dean asked, noticing it too.

Daddy nodded. "It was, but then it moved."

"Why are you moving the rooms?"

"I'm not, they move on their own."

"It's like a freaking TARDIS." Jacob comments under his breath. I hum my agreement.

"Any chance you can get us a Marauder's Map for this place? Like 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' and 'Mischief managed' and all that jazz?" I ask, sarcastically, even though the Potterhead in me is asking earnestly. It would be pretty cool.

"Maybe there's a Room of Requirement." Jacob says.

"We should watch out for Draco and the Death Eaters, make sure they don't come through the cabinet."

"Nerds." Dean comments from behind us. Dad is looking at us with mirth and adoration in his eyes. Cas was staring ahead with his head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed, probably trying to understand our banter.

After what felt like ages, we reached a large, spacious hall with arched double doors painted different colors. What they all had in common were brass door knockers in the middle and massive brass handles.

"These are the bedrooms," Dad began, sounding like a tour guide. I half expected him to start telling us to keep our hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. "These rooms have never been opened, but they were made especially for you."

"How do we know if it's ours?" Dad questioned.

"The door will open for you." To demonstrate, Daddy walked to one of the more strange doors, one half of the door being a chocolate-y brown color with gold swirls and the other half being a dark olive green with a splatter paint design of every color under the sun. Placing his hand on the wood of the door, the brown side, a small monitor appeared to the left of the door with some text on it. Typing something on the keyboard that also appeared out of nowhere, the chocolate brown door swung open about 45 degrees.

"Sammich, the other door is yours but you will have to open it like I did mine. Or else, the room won't let you enter." With that, Daddy disappeared into the depths of his room, and we were left in what could be considered the atrium. Turning in circles around the rotund, we inspected the doors, that remained untouched, trying to decipher which door belonged to whom. The first to move was Dad, already knowing where his door was located.

Doing the same as Daddy, he stroked the wood delicately and another screen appeared. And then he was gone, following Daddy into the room. Next were Dean and Cas, knowing that theirs was the only other mix-and-matched door. The door on the right was an onyx, looking far too similar to the Impala. It even had the same shine when hit with light. In contrast, Castiel's was a bright sky blue color with little flecks of pearl white. Then it was just me and Jacob.

There were only two doors, and we really didn't know which one was ours. One was had a crinkled look to it and resembled a piece of parchment. All over the 'parchment' were wisps of black in thick and thin strokes. The other was like the way Doctor Who described the painting Starry Night in the episode with Vincent Van Gogh. _"__Look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is in fact deep blue. And over there: lighter blue and blowing through the blues and blackness the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through. And you see how they roar their light. Everywhere we look the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes."_

It was mine, I knew it. I lived in the night, mainly because of insomnia, but also because it was one of the most beautiful times in the twenty four hour day. It didn't require words. The beauty of everything around you spoke louder than any eloquent statement one could create. I saw me sitting on the hood of the Impala with Dad and Dean and Daddy and Cas. I saw me and Jacob in London on the swings and making snow angels; Amsterdam and getting stuck in the swirly side. I saw her, sitting on my right, with the largest smile I had ever seen, her hair flying out in the back as she pumped forward.

Walking forward slowly to the door, I raised my hand and brushed the door ever-so-lightly with the tip of my middle finger. I jumped minutely when the screen and keyboard popped out at the right.

_Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?_ Of course, it just happened to be a Harry Potter reference, the riddle asked by the guard to the Ravenclaw Common Room. Using Luna's response, I typed in that a circle has no beginning. The doors opened halfway with a little creak. Looking back to the atrium I saw Jacob looking at his door in awe. I waved halfheartedly before walking into the room.

It was pitch black and toasty warm when I entered. The doors snapped shut behind me with a loud slam. I walked forward and realized that the floor was cement. All of a sudden, on my left and right two streetlights lit up. They were the classic streetlights that had a light on each side of the pole and typically had an ornate design. I always loved those.

Continuing down the corridor, more and more street lights lit up until I reached a T. High up on the stone walls were street signs that could usually be found in London. Not really knowing where to go, I quickly sang 'Eeenie meenie miney mo' and headed left. It bended right and right again before I found myself in a room that was very similar to a loft. With tall ceilings that reached a glass dome top and birck walls painted white, my breath was stolen away. About two-thirds up the walls was a metal walkway that rapped around all the walls coming to meet in a wrought iron spiral staircase. Spread out along the edges of the room, above and below, were bookshelves of various shapes and sizes. Organized neatly (and alphabetically by author's last name and separated by genre!) were books of all sorts. Many were paperback, hardback, and leather bound. Band posters were few and far between, along with some photographs and shelves with vinyl records on them. Much like my room back in Walla Walla, fairy lights were all over the walls, giving a soothing and homey feel to the cavernous space. In the middle of the room was a king size bed in a frame that looked exactly like the one back home, Christmas lights strung through the rods in the headboard.

Across from the bed was what was inside the 'T'. Entering the strange configuration, the serif (if that's what you want to call it) on my left held a closet with some clothes, all of my clothes from home. On my right was a mirror with some black flecks on it, indicating that it was kind of old. And down in the center was an antique elevator, with the manual doors and everything. Pulling back the loud and squeaky door, I slid myself into the small space and closed the doors. Pressing the button, I began my descent down the elevator shaft, marveling at just how cool it was to watch the world move up, like a window on a touch screen device.

Landing with a little jolt, I pulled back the retractable doors and stepped out. My boots sounding against the hardwood, I let out a little breathless laugh at the room. In the area around the 'T' were reading nooks. The one on the right had a window that resembled a cabin in the mountains. Outside, snow was falling and I could vaguely see some ski lifts. On the other side was a bustling city, London to be exact. It was morning during the summer, probably around 6AM, and many were coming back to life for the day to come. The benches in the nooks were memory foam when I touched them and were covered in pillows and blankets. I think I even saw a giraffe Pillow Pet.

Across from the nooks was a large entertainment system: flat screen TV mounted on the wall, gaming consoles organized neatly, DVDs arranged by genre, and games. A large sectional couch stood before it, also covered with blankets, and a fireplace to the left of the couch. Near the fireplace was a doorway that led to a little kitchen, looking as if it popped out from an Ikea catalogue. Turning back the other way, there was another doorway identical to this one. Venturing in, I saw a large bathroom with a tub and shower. There was a free standing sink, a toilet in the corner, and an antique mirror hanging on the wall.

To say that I was in Heaven would be false, but it was pretty goddamn accurate. Going to the fireplace, found some logs right next to it, and I took the lighter from my pocket, setting the logs alight. I had the urge to curl up on the couch and watch Friends for however how long. Doing so would require comfy clothes not covered in blood. Maybe a shower would help as well. Padding back into the bathroom, I turned on the water and shed myself of my clothes.

I noticed a few scratches that needed to be addressed and stitched, but they didn't hurt that much and I craved nothing more than showering. Stepping under the spray I sighed in contentment. The warm water from the overhead spout did wonders for my mood, taking away all of my stress from the last few weeks. Grasping air as I blindly searched for the shampoo and conditioner, I scrubbed my hair furiously, ridding it of all the dirt and oils.

I started singing _Come Sail Away_ by Styx, knowing that Dean had ruined my life by playing classic rock all the time, but it wasn't all bad, just the majority of it. Having scrubbed away all of the dirt and _blegh_ from my body, I remained under the water, not yet ready to move, but it eventually turned cold. I stepped out into a really steamy bathroom, the moisture thick on the floor.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I went to get clothed from the closet. I stopped in my tracks when I remembered that the closet was upstairs. I preferred to not stand in an old elevator dripping wet with only a towel around my body, no matter how awesome the elevator was. I let out an unbecoming noise that nobody would ever have the privilege of hearing. Looking around the room, I spotted something I hadn't noticed before: a ladder! Specifically a ladder that went to the next floor.

Climbing up it while have slick feet proved to be a difficult task, but after a few attempts I finally managed it. Popping open a trap door, I slithered through and high-tailed it to the closet.

I almost squealed when I found a pair of giraffe footie pajamas (that actually fit my tall body!) tucked away in the back of the wardrobe. Throwing them on immediately, I relished in the fleece that I did not get to enjoy as a child. On my way back to the trap door, I found a piece of folded up parchment on the bed. Picking it up, I instantly realized what it was.

I held it in between my two hands. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." And on the front cover, the ink began to spread, just like it did in the movies, filling everywhere to the corners of the parchments. The curly script appeared, reading _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs; Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP_.

I opened it up delicately and saw the array of rooms from the house on the map. I quickly found my name and my inky footsteps in the room labeled _Starry Night_. In the room next door was Jacob in his room, called the _Fountain Pen_. Then were Dean and Cas, simply in the room called _Impala_. Lastly were Daddy and Dad in the room with the name of _Moose_. I snorted at that, the name that Crowley had taken to calling Dad affectionately. It was pretty fucking hilarious.

"Mischief managed." I muttered. The ink disappeared, leaving the parchment unstained. I placed in a nightstand drawer, and crawled back down the rabbit hole.

I noticed the dimmed flames immediately and tended to the fire once more. I put Friends in the DVD player, curled up on the couch under the blankets. I fell asleep soon after, mind free of any troubles.

Stretching my arms up high over my head like a fucking cliché, I rolled over in my bed and rolled down onto the floor. My hair covering my face, I looked through the strands to see a room with which I was not familiar. I pushed myself up quickly and looked around. That's when it all came back to me: missing Christmas with the family, the flickering lights, John and Mary and Jess, the bakery with the red velvet intestine cupcakes, and Daddy's house. I stood up and rubbed a tired hand through my hair. Glimpsing in a mirror, I saw the tragedy that was my hair.

Shaking it out, I climbed into the elevator. The next floor appeared before my eyes and I stepped out and snatched the Marauder's Map, saying the magic words to find the central kitchen where everyone could be. Looking at all their names, I saw that they were all asleep still. I smiled softly as a plan formed in my head. It could be dangerous, but it would be totally worth it. Going back in to get the sword I left in there and some boots, I flew to Walla Walla, home specifically, and did what I could to move the gifts, cookies, stockings, and tree.

Eventually they were set up accordingly in one of the various rooms. The map called it the _Room of Several Fucking Uses_. Weaving and winding through the myriad of corridors, I found the master kitchen and set out making breakfast for everybody.

The house, or the kitchen at least, soon smelled of maple bacon, chocolate-chip pancakes, challah French toast, omelets, and hash browns. I saw movement on the map from Jacob and Dean. Slowly but surely I could see them progress to the kitchen. Food, I learned quickly, was one of the easiest ways to get a man's attention. They strolled into the kitchen, eyes still thick with sleep and sit down at the table. I poured some coffee for them and proceeded to set the table.

"Can we eat now?" Jacob croaked.

"No, the others aren't up." I replied.

"But I'm hungry!" whined Dean.

"Well, suck it up, you big baby." And then Daddy, Dad, and Cas were in the room. Dean cheered, happy to finally get his food. They all dug in a moaned simultaneously.

"Holy crap, Lucy, you are doing the cooking for us for the rest of your life." Dean said, though it didn't exactly sound like that.

"Wow, Dean, glad to see that you are a proud supporter of women's rights." I replied, letting my sarcasm run wild. Dad snorted into his coffee.

Dean flipped me off, which I so happily returned. I heard Daddy mutter "Put a bird on it!"

"What's the hullaballoo about anyways?" Jacob asked while munching on some toast with Nutella. We all turned and quirked an eyebrow at his word choice, but pointedly ignored it.

"Well, we didn't really get to celebrate Christmas, so I kind of wanted to continue the tradition."

"What tradition?" Dean asked rudely.

I huffed. "The typical Christmas tradition. Give me a break, okay! It's my first time celebrating Christmas and I want to get the full experience, even if there were dead bodies involved. It's not going to stop me!"

From the corner of my eye I saw Dad and Daddy share a look of guilt. "And anyways," I continued. "Because I aged faster I wasn't really a little kid for a long time, thus kind of ruining the magic of Christmas. I simply just want to know what it's like!"

Dean wordlessly relented. He knew that I was just as stubborn as Dad, and when we felt passionately about something, we wouldn't just relinquish easily.

At least Dean was smart enough to when to back down.

"So, if we are going to celebrate Christmas," Jacob began imploringly. "We would need the present s and tree and stuff all here, which they aren't." I smiled and stood up a little straighter.

"Already taken care of." Dad choked on the eggs.

"I'm sorry, did you just mean to say that you went back to Walla Walla on your own to retrieve a fucking tree and some presents, on your own? You could've gotten hurt!"

"I brought my sword! And I moved quickly! I even brought cookies." Dad rolled his eyes and pulled bitchface number thirty seven.

"What did I tell you about leaving? Why is it that you always follow the little, insignificant rules but not the important ones?" He paused, and then opened his mouth to say more. His jaw snapped shut when Daddy placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Lucy," Daddy said calmly. "What you did was reckless and stupid, don't do it again. You can get a 'get out of jail free' card on this one, considering how much this means to you. Now sit down and eat your breakfast." I did as I was told, though I didn't eat as fervently as the rest of the table. Except for Castiel, of course.

We finished up breakfast in quiet, the only sounds being the scraping of forks on plates. Getting up to put the dishes away and move into the _Room of Several Fucking Uses_ to open presents.

"By the way, Lucy, loving the PJs." Jacob remarked.

"Really? Me too."

Jacob, the Christmas veteran, took the liberty of organizing all the gifts into piles characterized by the recipient. Surprisingly, we all had an equal number of gifts.

Dean had suggested that I went first, but I shook my head. "Cas goes first." He bore his cerulean eyes into mine.

"Why? Why should I go first?"

"Because it's my first Christmas and I want you to start it all off."

Relenting, he picked up a tightly wrapped box with a ribbon on it. I smiled, because I knew that it was mine. His long and delicate fingers pried the tape off the paper gently, slowly unwrapping the gift. We all groaned.

"Just open the freaking gift! I worry about you, brother." Said Dad. Castiel ignored him and continued to go at his own pace. Finally, the wrapping paper dropped to the floor, and Julia Child's _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_ appeared in his lap. Ho looked at it intently, letting his fingers run over the cover and spine.

"I figured since you've gotten into cooking lately, you could learn from one of the most celebrated cooks in history." I remarked softly. He flicked his eyes toward me and smiled softly.

"Thank you, Lucy. It is much appreciated. I shall put it to good use." To translate, he meant 'THANK YOU SO MUCH! I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER!'

Next was Dad. He grabbed one of the smaller boxes and held it in his hand. Tearing into the paper, with little regard to its fate, he soon held a small leather book. There were gold inscriptions on the front.

Dad was shocked; his mouth was open slightly and his eyes never wavered from the book. "What is it, Sasquatch?" Daddy asked.

"It's – It's one of the original copies of The Great Gatsby. Even signed by F. Scott Fitzgerald." He said, opening the cover. "Thanks, Jacob."

Jacob simply nodded his head in response, not able to meet Dad's eyes. Soon Dean followed, and received a gift from Daddy: a new tool kit.

"These aren't going to kill me, are they?" Dean had asked cautiously.

"'Course not, bucko. Sammich would never forgive me."

Daddy opened his, which was from Cas, to find a light saber replica! "Oh, Cas, you've been holding out on me! Did Dean force you to watch Star Wars with him?"

"No, actually, it was Lucy who made me watch them. They were quite entertaining."

Jacob went next, getting an autographed script of _Much Ado About Nothing_ from Dean. I went last, and opened a gift from Dad. It was a gold ring with rubies shaped liked leaves, looking like they were moving in the breeze. I felt tears behind my eyes, wondering just how much it cost.

"Holy shit." I breathed.

"It's also for your birthday, which we really didn't acknowledge. Sorry about that. Do you…do you like it?" He asked tentatively.

"Are you freaking kidding me? It's amazeballs." Daddy chuckled from the corner at that.

"Well, try it on." I grabbed the ring lightly and slid it onto my middle finger on my left hand. It fit perfectly.

I couldn't resist. I bear hugged Dad and pecked him on the cheek. I sat down and refused to look at him.


End file.
